Harveste Addams and the Goblet of Fire
by kyaru-chan
Summary: Let's have a little FUN this year, shall we?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Harveste Addams and the Goblet of Fire

Crossover: Harry Potter and the Addams Family

Summary: Let's have a little FUN this year, shall we?

Warning: Addams Family Sadism and Cross-dressing, Spoilers -do I have to write that?-

I love how my reviews are getting longer and longer! The more I read, the more inspired I get! Though, I haven't smoked this much in ages, and I am drowning in all the black coffee…

BDSanta2001, Harveste was just thought up on my way to the market, but that game sounds fascinating. And the staple gun? Epic! Hermione loves all the attention she's getting, and Blaise and Draco are getting quite jealous. I wonder why I'm not getting any slash fans… I used to be quite the SasuNaru writer in the day, but no promises. Pairings, pairings, let's see…

May I just say that when I found out that Fred Weasley had died in the seventh book, my mind shut down. So! Look forward to our darling Weasley twins!

This story is dedicated to Nicole Fox, winner of America's Top Model Cycle 13. I don't usually watch it, but when I saw her, I would swear I saw Addams written all over her forehead. She is adorable!

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.

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-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

_To rende thee soul is first and foremoste thee vilest thyng in thee world. Itte ys but a cruelle ande unjuste Manne, steep'd in thee Most Demmonic of Urges, who canst subjecte to thys hys owne soul and those of others upon whych he hast extracted thee Steepest pryce: that of Deathe ytselfe. Ande upon thys extraction, ande only by thys means, may he take but a peace of hys soul ande confyn yt in a Vessele of hys choice. Thus, he ensureth himself freedom from thee grasp of thee Bone Walker; Immortale ande yet Cursed to suffer ane eternity of tormente yf ever he lose hys Vessele._

Harry trailed his finger down the crackling parchment one more time, looked at the words 'cruelle and unjuste', then looked up at his grandmother curiously. "Grandmama, you don't have a Horcrux, do you?"

"No," Granny Frump cackled, fingers still furiously knitting. She was making a jumper for Pubert. It had four arms. "That would be cheating."

"Don't we always cheat?"

"Not when it comes to Death." She said, hissing the last word with relish. "What's the point of stopping it or trying to run away from it?"

"Cousin Arture made a Philosopher's Stone for you five years ago." He said thoughtfully. He had read up on that too, after his first year, intrigued by the nonsense Quirrel and Tom had been spouting. It was created in an alchemist's circle, a condensed form of a thousand lives given unwillingly and harvested at the same time. The last they heard of Cousin Arture, he had moved. Again.

"And I threw it away." His grandmother smiled gruesomely at him, her teeth rotted and black. "Death is _glorious_. It's what we Addams live for."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The dirty, wasted form chained to the wall started to shiver as soon as the door was opened. It was long past screaming now.

"Good morning, Peter." Harry smiled at his captive as he settled himself on the cold stone floor. Rats and cockroaches scuttled out of his way. "How are you today?"

"P-please…" It pleaded from cracked, bleeding lips. "D-don't…"

She had only practiced on pets and the occasional stray bear, but he could see the evidence that she had not only inherited Mother's looks but her talent as well. Wednesday was getting _good_.

"Now, now, I just wanted to talk today. I assume you know about dear Tom and his Horcruxes. I would like you to tell me about them, if you don't mind."

A shimmer of defiance entered the sunken eyes. "N-no…"

Well, well. That was certainly admirable. It seemed his loyalty hadn't been erased just yet. Tom Riddle must have been quite the speaker in his day. Harry had read up on the speeches he had made as well, all about pureblood supremacy and extermination. He had read a lot this summer. It had been quite enlightening.

Reading wasn't the only way to gain information though.

A sharp edge gleamed for a moment in the candlelight.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Remus' fingers twitched as the leather straps were tightened even more. The cables were humming with electricity. He could see sparks leaping from the ancient lever board.

Sirius stood a little way in the corner, his hair on end. His hands were shaking around a cup of water but he had a mad grin stretching from ear to ear, so he was probably alright.

Still…

"Harry, this…it's safe, isn't it?"

Wednesday snorted, her hand on the throw lever already even though the device was still warming up.

"Valkyrie, don't tease him." Harry smiled benignly from beside Sirius. He patted his godfather's shoulder and more sparks appeared. "Don't worry, Uncle Remus. Your magic will cushion the blow, protecting you automatically. You will probably feel a slight tingle. Wizards are harder to kill by our regular means."

"Doesn't mean we're going to stop trying." Wednesday muttered. "Ready?"

Somehow, he was not comforted.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Sirius walked into the kitchen, stomping his feet. He left behind a trail of black loam, and Thing followed him, fastidiously brushing away.

"Uncle Sirius," Harry greeted from the table. "How was your first burial?"

"Surprisingly restful. Though the spiders were a bit much."

Harry looked at Pugsley.

"I thought it'd be a nice change! People aren't often buried with tarantulas!"

"There's a reason for that." Sirius grinned wickedly. A large, furry body was thrown into the strawberry blond's bowl, its eight legs curled up in the manner of dead spiders everywhere. It looked very familiar.

"Mother, I can't find Hector!" Wednesday called from upstairs.

Pugsley and Sirius looked at each other. Then they started to run.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Getting all five of them into the narrow telephone booth was a touch claustrophobic. Harry stepped back as Pugsley, who had grown even more muscular in school, tried to take advantage of the close quarters.

"Honestly, Pugs. Can't you wait just a second? There's all sorts of targets downstairs."

"They're not half as fun."

Wednesday stomped on her eldest brother's foot. She was wearing sharpened cleats.

Sirius, wearing a long fake beard, contacts, and one of Lurch's hats, squeezed in after them. Remus, still a bit woozy from his first Trans-Atlantic Potion, was hauled in after him and the door was closed. There was ensuing confusion as both Harry and Wednesday blocked attacks from Pugsley and Sirius tried to get to the dial without getting skewered, cut or blown up, but in the end, an inanely cheery voice started to chirp, setting all their nerves on edge.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic! Please state your name and purpose!"

Harry grabbed his sister's hand as she moved to punch the telephone and spoke up. "Harveste, Wednesday, Liverworth, Lumeno and _Pericles_ Addams for the Department of Mysteries please."

"Seriously Harry, 'Pericles'?"

"At least you're not 'Liverworth'." Sirius muttered.

"Thank you, visitor! Please attach the badge to the front of your robes and enjoy your visit to the Ministry of Magic!"

"Where is the operator located?" Wednesday asked mutinously, grabbing her name tag like it was an insulting bouquet as they started to descend. "I want to have a few words with her."

"There'll be time enough for that, my Valkyrie." Harry said with a smile, patting her head. She took a swipe at him.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Pugsley looked at the Fountain of Magical Brethren and slipped something into the water.

A few minutes later and the entrance room was filled with London smog, poisoned, polluted and thicker than Grandmama's house specialties, minus the eyes. A siren started to whine piercingly and footsteps began to thunder, dark, cloaked forms passing them by on the way to the Atrium. Uncontested, the five of them strolled through into the Ministry and into the lift.

Wednesday's eyebrow kept twitching at the elevator's tinny music. Sirius and Remus inched away from her.

Finally, they were on Level Nine. Since Pugsley's little trick had summoned all the Unspeakables, they went straight to the Hall of Prophecy.

They all heard the prophecy. Sirius ground his teeth under his fake beard. Remus' hand clenched on his wand. Harry and Pugsley smiled at each other over their impatient sister's head.

Then they went home. They brought the operator with them.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Harveste tells me that you are the Black Widow of Britain."

Syrena Zabini looked away from the window. Out in the graveyard, the children were playing again. There was a muffled series of explosions, then something hit the window hard enough to crack it.

"I wouldn't give myself the honor," She said demurely, raising her teacup. There was frogspawn in it. "It's merely a name the wizarding press thought up."

Morticia smiled across at her from over her own china, her shadowed eyes glinting slightly. "Four husbands though. Where ever do you put them?"

"Blaise has been such a help in that area." Syrene sighed happily. "He digs like he was born for it."

"And was he?"

"Of course."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The observatory, also known as the great ballroom, shone in the night, lit with a thousand tallow candles. In the corner was the band, playing music that was actually suitable for human ears. Remus was surprised at that, but then again, he thought as he gazed upwards at the glass ceiling, the Addams seemed to enjoy beautiful things. It made sense. They were a beautiful, if macabre, family.

Harry certainly fit in well. He stood with his baby brother in his arms, dressed in an emerald green corset and a full-length skirt. Hermione had explained the reason why his late friend's son seemed overly fond of women's clothing, but however innovative an idea it was, it didn't detract from the fact that Harveste Addams, with his delicate cheekbones and sultry eyes, looked positively bewitching.

And also very up-to-date with today's current fashions, judging by the amount of tulle and chiffon in the room. It was like a museum dedicated to the styles of the late 1400s to 1700s.

"We dance for the dead! We dance for the living! We dance for old friends and the new! And now, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin…we dance for you!"

Remus blinked at the mention of his name then watched as, with a clash of tambourines, Pugsley, Wednesday and Harry began to circle each other, Pubert still hugged to his chest. Gomez, in a vividly red silk shirt with a high black collar, was proudly introducing something called the Mamushka.

The music was insidious and enchanting. All the Addams women were singing as the silver coins shook and the hides were tapped. Morticia herself was in the midst of the band, her lithe, somber figure looking at home with a blood-red violin.

The children were amazingly acrobatic, and very, very willing to risk Pubert's life. The child was five years old now, and it must have taken considerable strength to keep tossing him in the air. First he was in Wednesday's arms, then back to Harry, then he was thrown to Pugsley, who drop-kicked him back to Wednesday, who did a sort of backflip twist-and-flick that sent him soaring back to Harry. Pubert looked like he was enjoying himself.

Then he landed in the punch bowl with a splash, and knives were shining in the candlelight. Remus tried to count how many there were, but they were moving too fast for even his werewolf-enhanced eyes to follow. They leapt and glimmered in the air like a shoal of fish, faster and faster until both Wednesday and Harry winked at each other. Suddenly all the knives were flowing towards Pugsley, with only the occasional knife being thrown between the two brunettes. The strawberry blond was spinning now, showing off inhumanly fast hand-eye-foot coordination. Each time he kicked at a knife, his foot always managed to find the handle rather than the blade, and he sent it rocketing towards Morticia, who kept playing away, looking completely unconcerned at the fact that she was inches from death. The knives always seemed to miss her somehow, thudding deep into the wall behind her instead. Then, as all the remaining knives were tossed into the air, Wednesday's left hand tightened around a handle, and Harry's right hand did the same, and both of them dashed at their brother.

It looked like he wouldn't be able to catch them all in time. It looked like they were going to _cut his head off_.

There was a twirl, a sweep and a rain of _thunk-thunk-thunks_, and then Pugsley was holding his siblings by the hand, and they all took a deep bow, the knives still vibrating from the force with which they had been thrust into the oak floor.

"Harry, that was _awesome_!" Hermione exclaimed as their friend walked up to them, barely in a sweat. "You've _got_ to teach me how to do that!"

"Me too!" Draco said, eyes wide at the sheer number of knives that had peppered the wall around the Addams matriarch.

Blaise narrowed his eyes at the smiling brunette. "You've never done that at weapons practice."

"Addams Family tradition, young comrades!" Gomez said, one heavy hand on Pugsley's shoulder. "You can't be taught unless you're one of the family!"

Hermione blushed at the implication. So did Draco. Blaise threw pureblood dignity to the wind and buried his face behind a gigantic ostrich drumstick.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The house was crooked and dusty, standing like an eyesore in the midst of impeccably maintained, whitewashed manors of Grimmauld Place. The air inside No. 12 smelled like the Chamber of Secrets, but with a touch more mildew.

"I see why you were so comfortable in our house."

Sirius scratched his head sheepishly as they walked on the creaky floorboards. "My family wasn't as accepting as yours, so this place isn't really home for me."

"Blood traitor! Disgraceful, worthless trash!" A hateful voice screeched. "I curse the day you were born into this world!"

"That's one of the reasons why. Dear Mother. How I'd love to rip her tongue out."

"Wish granted. Wednesday?"

The thin girl stepped forward, her Addams smile already firmly on her face and an Addams knife in her hand. "I've never done paintings before. Do they feel pain, you think?"

"Trespassers! The blood traitor! Get you out of my mistress' house!"

"Ooooh, a house elf."

It lasted two minutes, its tortured screams following the rest of them up the stairs.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The place was full of dangerous Dark Artifacts, most of which Pugsley and Wednesday had fun with and took home as souvenirs. There were multiple containers of blood, which were for Grandmama, and quite a few shrunken heads, which would go into Mother's cabinet. There were weapons of every size and shape, some dipped into an exotic sort of poison that would have their Father clapping his hands with glee. There were also a few crates of explosives, which was surprising since Sirius had told him that the Black family was against everything Muggle. Apparently pureblood superiority also loved a little mindless mayhem once in a while. Uncle Fester would be pleased.

They went from room to room, bombarded by Doxies and leeches and whatnot. Harry allowed his sister to let her hair down, figuratively speaking, and rock the house, literally. She used her hair for the exact same reason he used his skirts, and not even her first year in Beauxbatons had changed that. Beauxbatons, she had sneered, was full insultingly easy pickings.

There was one thing that had caught his eye though, through the haze of Dark Magic. It was a familiar feel, the same kind of wispy tingle that he had felt last year. It was centered around a very tacky-looking locket with a big stylized S in the front. It said something about dear Tom that all the things he had chosen to hold pieces of his soul were all gaudy, chunky and perceived as being something very important in the wizarding world. It was like he was trying to compensate for something.

He swept it up and went into another abandoned room, away from his busily chattering family. The silver shone strangely in the light that streamed through the window, and yes, the pulsing, damaged magic of the Horcrux tried to latch onto his. He smiled grimly. Dear old Tom, what a character.

It had been quite an unusual taste, the last time he had done this, even stranger than the things Granny Frump usually cooked up for them. It was probably an acquired taste. His teeth dug deeply into the corroded silver and he was smugly gratified to hear the tinny, pained wail.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He walked back into the other room, feeling satisfyingly full, only to find his family crouched around a large stone bowl. It looked like it had been hewn from the side of a mountain, runes he wasn't familiar with scored deeply into its sides. It was filled with an unctuous, slimy liquid that swirled languidly though no one was touching it.

"Something to drink?" he asked, settling down beside them.

"Heavens, no." Sirius looked vaguely sick at the idea. "Those are memories, the ones my family treasured and loved to share with each other. They would use this Pensieve to store all the murders they watched, all the tortures they had a hand in, all the miserable, disgusting, fiendish things they ever did, and they would show them to the whole family on special occasions."

"You don't say."

"Harveste Addams, don't you _dare-_"

But he was too late. As one, all three siblings plunged their heads into the bowl. Sirius managed to pull them out after a minute. They were all grinning.

"Oh, the _ideas_."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry watched two shaggy forms streak across the moonlit graveyard. They dodged around the gravestones, playfully nipping at each other's heels. One was a dusty brown streaked with silver, and the other was blacker than tar.

"Watching our dear werewolf again, my viper?"

Harry turned his head to smile at his mother as she stepped from the shadows. On the roof landing, the air was fresh and sweet, smelling of pondscum, rotting plants and whatever Grandmama was stewing downstairs. It was revitalizing.

"And Uncle Sirius. Or Liverworth, I should say." He smiled as his mother put one hand on his shoulder. The moon gave her an unearthly glow, and her eyes were dark and haunted. "Thank you for letting them stay with us, Mother."

"They're family." Was all she said with a vampiric smile, and he knew that was that.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry sighed. Quidditch was the one bane of his life that he could never get around to liking.

Sirius was dashing around like a madman, yelling with blind ecstasy at the top of his lungs. "The Quidditch World Cup! The Quidditch World Cup!"

Remus rolled his eyes at his seaweed breakfast. It had no eyes, so it waved a tentacle instead.

"What is this 'Quidditch World Cup'?" Gomez asked curiously, folding his newspaper to watch 'Uncle Liverworth' rampage his way up the stairs, dance around Lurch, and rampage down again, two steps at a time.

Pugsley answered. "It's a game played on broomsticks, Father. I was Chaser for our team on Salem, but I kept getting disqualified. What fun is a bat if you don't use it on heads?"

"Draco sent us tickets to see the finals." Harry said miserably to his orange porridge. "Sunshine, yet again. What a _blessing_."

"But that's wonderful!"

Harry looked up to see his father's eyes gleaming with more madness than usual. Absently, he noted that Sirius was getting quite close to his Father in terms of personality. It was a frighteningly delicious thought.

"We shall go, of course! _Maman_, ready the potion! We're going to Britain!"

Harry met Pugsley's eyes. The last time their father had been interested enough to attend a game of football, there hadn't been a stadium left and the surrounding hospitals had been full for _weeks_.

Harry started to smile. This would be fun after all.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"What is that _horrible_ smell?"

"Who are those – why does her doll have no head?"

"Is that Syrena Zabini?"

"Is that a _hand_?"

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to drown out the whispers that broke out behind them. In front, his mother was chatting gaily with Morticia Addams and Granny Frump, who was trailing her usual odious smell of gunpowder, squid ink and incontinence. Beside him, Harveste and Wednesday were talking about the last torture session they had seen in the Black Pensieve. Uncle Liverworth strode behind him, vibrating with excitement, Uncle Lumeno's hand the only thing keeping him from running amuck once more.

"Lucius Malfoy!"

And Gomez Addams was striding across the green, greeting the stoic aristocrat with offensive effervescence.

Lucius Malfoy was surprised twice in his lifetime.

Draco stood beside him, his face lighting up when he saw the figures strolling calmly up the hill. "Harveste! Blaise!"

"Won't you introduce me, Draco?"

Blaise didn't envy Draco his mother. She was like Morticia Addams, minus the niceness. She had a stare like a dragon on her, and she leveled it at the motley group.

"Certainly, Mother. May I introduce Mister Gomez, Mistress Morticia, Mistress Esmerelda, Pericles-"

"You've given me a blessed name, Mother, I swear. It sounds so _wholesome_."

"- Harveste, Wednesday, Mister Fester, Mister er-Liverworth, Mister Lumeno and Pubert Addams. And Thing. And Lurch their butler. And Mistress Syrena and Blaise Zabini." Draco took a deep breath before continuing. "Everyone, this is my mother, Lady Narcissa Malfoy."

Granny Frump cackled. "You've got her bone structure. Very clear, defined. Good for jointing."

"_Maman_," Morticia scolded gently. She floated up to the stern woman and extended a red-taloned hand. "It's a pleasure, I'm sure."

Narcissa Malfoy took it, and did not shiver. Blaise was impressed. Then her gaze flickered over Harveste's forehead and his mouth formed a little O. Surely she wouldn't…

"Let's go see the pitch!" Draco, filled with self-preservation, grabbed Harveste's hand and stalled his mother's untimely death. "I hear it's bigger than last year's."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Draco," Blaise hissed, once they were a distance away. His eyes kept darting back at the dark hillock where all the parents were still talking. "D'you think your mum…your dad-"

"I don't know." Draco said quietly. "They're just so…Father says his Dark Mark's been getting stronger. I just-"

"Darlings?"

Draco and Blaise stopped, their insides twisting. Harry cocked his head at their expressions. They were deep enough in the forest that no one would hear them. He ghosted a fingertip over both their cheeks. "What's wrong?"

Blaise said nothing. His mother had never openly served the Dark Lord, and now that she had met the Addams, she never would. The Addams were the real deal, soaked to the elbows in Blood Magic and loving it.

"My parents - my father-" Draco started, then tried to begin again. "I would never, but my father, he -"

"He was one of Tom's Death Eaters, yes?"

"It's not his fault," Draco tried to explain. "It's-it's a pureblood thing, but I would _never – _Hermione is my friend, but-"

Freezing lips touched his forehead, and Blaise's as well.

"You worry too much, my darling." Harry said fondly when he drew back. Wednesday's eyes were flicking between them. "My family would never hurt yours."

"But you were Harry Potter." Blaise said, then he saw Wednesday's dark gleam. "I said _were_. We're just worried about you."

"Such good friends you are." Harry chuckled as he took his sister's hand. "Let's not talk about this now, hmm? Your precious _Quidditch_ awaits."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Blaise looked at the tent. He knew it would be big inside; it would have to be to fit in both Lurch and Pugsley, but from the outside it looked like it wouldn't have stood up in a dead calm. The canvas was greasy and when it flapped, it actually creaked. It smelled like someone had drowned in it, then been cut up and stewed with lots and lots of onions and valerian. Knowing Granny Frump, it was pretty damn accurate.

There had been a delegation from Salem, a hugely muscular bunch that looked like a jock's worst nightmare, but they had all run off when they had seen Pugsley. It had been the same thing with the Beauxbatons' delegation when they had seen Wednesday.

Not that he should have expected any different. All of their classmates from Hogwarts had hidden from them as well, except for Cedric Diggory, the unassuming yet sadistic-minded captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, who had waved at them. And, of course, the Idiot Four.

Wednesday had made for them, but Harveste had waved a finger admonishingly. "No playing with my toys, Valkyrie. You've got your own."

He loved the Addams family, honestly he did, but sometimes, even he couldn't deny that they were just plain disturbing.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Coo-ee, anyone in?" Syrena asked, poking her head into the tent. She was a small woman, just an inch taller than her son now, and she stepped inside the dank recesses of the Addams tent without having to bow her head. "Anyone?"

"In here, dear." A blood-curdling screech answered. It was the sort of thing one heard before they were received a blow to the back with a rusty axe.

"Granny Frump. What are you cooking today?"

The gnarled old crone snorted with derision, then spat into the turbid muck that was in her cast-iron cauldron. "Roadkill. Nothing worth eating. What I wouldn't give for _fresh_ meat, from a _fresh_ kill…"

"Really? I'll be glad to help." She said cheerfully. Her hand was already reaching for the chopper that was holstered to her thigh.

She always came prepared to these sort of gatherings. One never knew when a potential husband might come strolling along. There would always inevitably be the instance of the inconvenient wife, who was always quickly and discreetly dispatched. Her smile, hidden in the gloom, would have given Blaise the shivers. She was a nice woman, Syrena Zabini, but Blood Magic took you to heights Dark or Light Magic had never even seen, and once you had tasted the rainbow, then you just had to keep coming back. The bonus was that it didn't stain your soul or make you feel like a hypocrite. It just…set you free.

"Light meat or dark?"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

They were high in the top box, seated next to the Weasleys and the Malfoys. Harry had nodded at Ronald and Ginevra, who had fainted at the sight of Thing. For some reason, Narcissa couldn't look at Morticia without shuddering.

Harry smiled behind his fan and feathered his fingers over Draco's, tilting his head as the blond looked at him curiously. Draco's eyes darted between both their mothers for a second before a small smile tugged at his lips.

Gomez was _still_ talking to Lord Malfoy, who was starting to look like he wanted to be struck with irreversible deafness.

There was a huge blackboard level with their eyes, suspended just above the pitch. Harry could see his brother's hand inching towards one of his many pockets. He was wondering whether or not he would intervene, when all the lights winked out.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

Blaise had been at the Addams house long enough to know that Wednesday detested any happy, non-gruesome noise. He leaned out of the way as the knife whispered past him, but Harveste blocked it with a _senbon_ before it could hit Ludo Bagman.

"And now, without further ado! Let me introduce…the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"Veela!" Gomez said suddenly, leaning forward. "Look at them!"

Morticia raised a perfect, thin eyebrow, and Harry hid another smile. Their father was going to get it tonight, and not in a good way.

The music started.

And it ended. Harry looked at Wednesday and shrugged, not seeing what the fuss was all about. A quickflicker of_ senbon_ had both Draco and Blaise pinned to their seats, but otherwise…it was nothing special. Pugsley hadn't moved either, but that was because his first love would always be anthrax and strychnine.

"At least I know what's on the menu tonight." Granny Frump cackled.

"With a side of leprechaun." Harry added as he watched the small green specks with their lanterns. Wednesday smiled wickedly.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Screams filled the air, underscored by the stampede of hasty, frightened feet. People were rushing blindly everywhere, trying to get to, get from, or get away. There was a smell of potent, malignant magic in the air, and it had nothing to do with the Addams.

Now _this_ was _fun_.

Harry held back a laugh at the smell of the pure Dark in the air. It bore into him anyway like a sweet, tantalizing drug. Wednesday and Pugsley were beside him in the blink of an eye, their macabre grins as stark as bone. Morticia had already gone into the night, Gomez close behind, an unholy light shining from his face.

It was the dark of the moon and they would be unrecognizable, shaded by death on its swiftest wing, painted with blood and cursed by the gods.

"To Kali."

"To Loki."

"To Baron Samedi."

"Let's _slay_ them."

Harry danced among the pandemonium, covered in the dark, silver flashing between his fingers. He knew his family wouldn't go after weak targets, and he knew they wouldn't be blamed for any death incurred tonight either. He could see the ghoulish white masks of the Death Eaters as they stomped around with their heavy boots, scaring and taunting with their magic. There was a group dangling a family of non-magical humans and tossing them around in the air. Like it was even remotely frightening, this stupid little game they were playing, like they were some sort of righteous death-dealing squad instead of just gormless bullies, like they had any _courage_.

He laughed then, high and piercing, like a hawk as it dived for its prey, and darted for the nearest Death Eater. Blood spurted, gleaming in the green light of their spells. His first kill tonight, and it felt _glorious_. He crouched over the body, ignoring the outrage of the others. There would be time enough for them. Then he lifted his face, sniffing, eyes immediately going to one form. He could smell Malfoy in the air, not Draco, but Lucius.

_Lucius_.

This was his chance to protect his friends, to keep them, to own them like a true Addams. He grabbed the cloak of the stunned man, _knowing_ it was Draco's father without looking under the mask, and before he could move away, Harry hissed in his ear. "Draco is _mine_, and _Blaise_, and _Hermione_, and these _Muggles_. So _stop_ it."

"Crucio!"

Harry pushed Lucius away and rolled in the grass towards the Death Eater who had cast the Cruciatus Curse. His fan sliced effortlessly through cloth and skin and bone. And then he was up and in the throat of one of the Aurors that ran up to them, and another, and another, until his hair and his hands were soaked in blood. He weaved through their spells, his own Power a shield that he pushed forward, growing stronger and stronger, just as the gods had promised. He could hear voices, whispers in the wind, and he moved accordingly, striking with just his fan. It would be beyond stupid to leave a trail of _senbon_. His classmates were around after all, and the Idiot Four, and they would love any chance to get him sent to Azkaban.

He howled into the night and the dark moon answered him.

_Yes_.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He couldn't stop his leg from bouncing all throughout the trip, energy lashing through his veins like an untamed wildcat. As soon as they had landed on Addams ground, he darted away and into the minefield. Pugsley and Wednesday went after him

No holds barred. This was true practice, not the baby steps he was taking with his friends. This was real and true, the promise of death with every slash and parry, ever step potential danger, as daggers and axes and _senbon_ shone in the morning light. He didn't even care that it was sunnier than usual.

Pugsley's favored weapon of choice was cutlery, something ordinary and so everyday that no person in their right mind could have thought that it could cut into stone and marble. His dear sister, firebug that she was, dropped vial after vial of flammable liquid, her hob-nailed boots kicking up sparks that soon had them in the midst of an inferno. Harry tucked his hair up as he parried the oncoming shower of poison-tipped forks, then he ducked a morningstar that appeared out of nowhere. He looked around.

"Uncle Sirius?"

The dark-haired man grinned ferociously, then took a step backwards as Wednesday slashed down with a saber. Harry blinked, then slowly started to grin himself.

Remus looked on at the four of them, bodies barely visible in the black smoke, the shine of sunlight on metal the only way he could pinpoint their movements. "It's all fun and games until someone steps on a landmine." He sighed.

"It's not as entertaining without the threat of the unknown." Morticia smiled, then moaned rapturously as her husband bit her neck. "_Mon_ _sauvage_…do excuse us, Remus…"

"Take your time." He said, though he was completely unheard. He watched the two of them disappear inside the house, already lost in each other's erotic kisses, then he sighed again. Perhaps Granny Frump would like some help in the kitchen.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The paper rustled in the silence of the kitchen. Harry and his siblings were panting, happily exhausted, though Pugsley still making an effort. Harry blocked with little effort, humming into his smoking fish, then flicked a _senbon_ between his brother's eyes.

"Look at this: Twenty-four Dead in Quidditch World Cup Massacre! Good tally, well done everyone!"

"Let me see that," Sirius said, peering over Gomez' shoulder. Harry smiled. His godfather was fitting in perfectly, and Remus was too. It was so nice to have family together.

"Ha, look at this, old Barty Crouch in the papers again. He must be having a field day with all this."

"Who's Barty Crouch?" Pugsley said, rubbing at the red welt on his forehead. He had caught the _senbon_ just in time, and he sent it back. Harry snatched it out of the air and it disappeared into a pleat.

"The bastard who sent me to Azkaban without trial. He's a real hard ass, cracks down on everyone he thinks is a Death Eater. He sent his own son to prison."

"How lovely." Morticia said. "The children have only ever been to detention centers. Perhaps we could visit some time."

"Count me out." Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "I've had enough of that madhouse to last a lifetime."

"Nonsense."

Harry felt his smile grew a little more. Then he looked up at the bird which flapped in. It was Draco's owl, and it landed on his shoulder with all the assurance of a messenger that knows it's in no danger. Its wickedly curved beak nipped at his ear.

Harry took the message curiously and unrolled. He scanned the hastily scrawled words, and his smile became decidedly demonic.

"Lucius Malfoy has invited us to his house."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Draco had never felt more nervous in his life. The last night of the World Cup was still vivid in his memory. He had known that the Death Eaters were around; some had even greeted his father in that secret, hidden way that just screamed underworld organization. What he hadn't known was they would have the guts to pull such a blatant stunt right under the noses of the Ministry. And the Addams too.

The Addams. Harveste.

His father had stumbled back into their tent, his poise shot to hell. He wouldn't say a word to his mother, but Draco had seen his face and recognized the brand of terror that was uniquely Addams. They had been bundled home unceremoniously and his father had been at the drinks cabinet ever since.

What had Harveste done that had scared his father so much? He had thought and thought, and absently he noted that he wasn't angry at Harveste at all. He was mad at his father. Then he had looked at his lunar calendar and everything had clicked into place. That night had been the new moon. A cursory glance at the Daily Prophet had just cemented his conviction.

Twenty-four dead. With six of them there – seven if you included Pubert, and he wouldn't hesitate to – he was surprised that there hadn't been a bigger death count.

And now Father had invited them. He didn't know what Harveste would say to him, and that scared him more than anything.

"Darling, you didn't come to say hello."

Draco turned from the window. He was used to his friend's sudden appearances by now, and he said nothing as a gentle icy hand cupped his cheek. Harveste was different when he was around them, or maybe they were different when they were with him. It was strange. It was probably the way the Death Eaters felt when they were with the Dark Lord.

"Come, let's see your father, hmm? Mother and Father are with him, and we shouldn't leave them alone with a breathing body for too long."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Lucius could remember the first time he had lain eyes on Tom Riddle, the man who would become Lord Voldemort. The boy, almost a man, had been a few years ahead of him, but he had a presence and a Power about him that was nearly physical. He couldn't have helped himself even if he wanted to, and he had joined Voldemort's ranks as soon as he had graduated. The feel of the Dark Power had been like a drug, and they had, all of them, felt invincible. Their strength and their ideals were all His own, and He took them and changed them until they couldn't recognize what they had become, and _still_ they couldn't stop, couldn't leave. He had them by the particulars and there was no going back.

His Dark Mark had been getting gradually darker by the day, and it was starting to hurt again. It meant only one thing: He was getting stronger and He would want them at his side.

Blood before pride, and family before glory. That had been his motto ever since he had married Narcissa, ever since he had seen his baby boy and heard his cry. He would have to go and answer the call when it came. There was no other alternative. He had to keep his family safe.

But Draco was deviating from the plan. He sat next to this Harveste Addams –this Harry Potter – with his ghoulish, abominable nightmare of a family, and the amount of Power in the room buzzed like a saw over his nerves. This wasn't the cool touch of the Dark Power that he was used to. This was something different, something… animalistic.

"What do you want from my family?" he said suddenly, his hand tight around his wife's. She sat ramrod-straight, like she was carved out of marble.

"Nothing at all, Mister Malfoy."

"Then why – that night, you told me -"

"Draco is important to me." Harry said with a smile, ignoring his friend's sudden jerk. "All my friends are. Hermione Granger is born from non-magical parents, and I understand that our _mutual friend_ does not like non-wizard folk. I also know that you were with him during his first little power trip. I know that you know that I was Harry Potter, and I was responsible for ending that trip. And I know he's coming back. Addams protect our own, and I will not see Draco torn between his family and his friends. So, Mister Malfoy, it's not what I want from you. It's what _you_ want from _me_."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

.

.

…

End of Part 1

*hides from Blaise after he reads Alexandraya's review*


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Harveste Addams and the Goblet of Fire

Crossover: Harry Potter and the Addams Family

Summary: Let's have a little FUN this year, shall we?

Warning: Addams Family Sadism and Cross-dressing, Spoilers -do I have to write that?-

You guys took that longer reviews thing seriously, huh? Can I say I love you all? Totally do! You had me laughing at an ungodly time of morning XD.

**MoonPrincess623**, for the Idiot Four (Greengrass, Montague, Goyle and Bulstrode), I was choosing people who weren't on the Quidditch team as of yet. As you recall (or maybe not) Draco was in practice the first time they appeared. I'm anal about things like that. And there were Five, but as you know (and I'm damn sure everyone remembers) Vincent Crabbe got his. **KCL**, will you smite me if I say I've never watched the cartoons? I am basing ALL of this on the morbidly gaunt, yet ethereally beautiful face of Anjelica Huston. If you've not watched Dahl's The Witches, _you should_. Damn inspirational. **Shura** **Magami**, ask and you shalt receive. Re-read the last chapter please. In return, I _have_ to use that villain line, _please_. Wednesday is begging me. **Cheshire, , Sweet Smiles**, you'll just have to see, won't you *evil smile*. **Alexandraya, AKA Quin**, I think my muses are in love with you and your manic madness. Shinrei04, knock yourself out. You could also try Harlem or Harridan, and I've seen Harcourt a time or two. I like Harlem :)

Did everyone like my rendition of the Mamushka? It had me in knots.

I can't believe Cedric got just three whole mentions in four installments and almost everyone's gung-ho about him! Draco, Hermione and Blaise are very jealous. They woke me up at five in the morning to tell me TO FIX IT NOW, YOU HORRIBLE HAG AND GIVE US MORE SCREEN TIME! Such lovely muses…

.

.

…

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Uncle Liverworth and Uncle Lumeno had seen them off at the station. Grandmama's Switch Solution rendered them completely unrecognizable by any means, but the first time Remus had taken one, he couldn't look at a cat for weeks, and Sirius still sported a strange purple rash.

They were in one of the carriages now. Draco and Blaise were looking over Grandmama's copy of Moste Potente Potions and gaping at the little notes she had scribbled into the margins.

"'Squeeze seven frogs'? That's disgusting!"

"Not as disgusting as 'lick a horse'."

"Fresh scabs? How the hell do you get fresh _scabs?_"

"Maybe it's crabs?"

"It's _scabs_."

Hermione was looking over a book of human rights. She had gone with her parents to France for most of the summer, so she had missed the Quidditch World Cup, but he had saved her a clipping from the newspaper. She had seen Twenty-four dead, raked down Six Ministry Officials, Eight Aurors, Four Unspeakables and Six Death Eaters, and simply sighed at him.

"You couldn't get Fudge?"

He hid a smile behind his fan. Around his neck, Deidre tightened her coils and put her head on top of his hair. "I'll keep him in mind next time, darling."

She ignored him. The hotel they had stayed at in France had introduced her to House Elves, and she was pissed about it for some unknown reason. She was studying about House Elf rights, of which there were none, and House Elf duties, of which there were many. He could see her mind ticking away, getting more and more furious at the indignity she assumed they slaved under. It would be no use trying to explain to her, and it was possibly unwise to mention that Wednesday had oh so particularly taken a liking to Kreacher, the Black house elf. He had his own little cubby beside Peter, and no amount of magic could get him out. His sister had the talent, and he was just a touch jealous about that.

That decided it for him. This year was for torture, and he knew exactly who to start with.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Draco and Blaise were still engrossed in the book, even when Hermione had peeled away to join the Gryffindors at their table. They weren't even eating.

"Look at this one, 'Half a stem of bamboo, don't forget the entrails'. I don't even _want_ to know where that bamboo has been."

"I'm still stuck on 'lick a horse'."

Harry smiled around his cup. Ah, the good old days.

"'Cut the throat, not too deep, otherwise the scream won't come out right'. The hell?"

"There's a mention of a staple gun in here. What's that?"

"Baby fat? _Baby fat?_"

Over at the teachers' table, Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat. Harry looked him over. He looked no worse than before he had gone for his impromptu vacation to Haiti last year. Aunt Dementia wasn't losing her touch, was she? The headmaster noticed his gaze, and the genial baby-blues hardened into steel. Harry smiled and inclined his head.

"-my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year."

That got their attention. The entire Hall quietened, and both his friends looked up, eyes dark with mutiny.

"What did he say? Did he say what I thought he said? Can I kill him?"

"Perhaps later, Draco."

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October-"

"I'll kill him, I swear. _Quidditch_-"

"Er- Harveste, you wouldn't have any general antidote on you at the moment?"

"Why do you ask?"

Blaise looked at the furious expression on Draco's face. It had an _edge_ to it, a something that had never been there before they had met the Addams family. "Coz I think he's going to poison the Headmaster."

"Really? What kind of poison do you think he'd like to use?"

Lightning crackled on the enchanted ceiling, and just as a deafening crash of thunder ripped through the air, the huge double doors swung open, and a misshapen chunk of a man walked through.

"Uncle Fester?"

Blaise's mouth dropped open. Surely the gods wouldn't be so cruel as to add another Addams into the already unstable concoction that was Hogwarts. Only an Addams could handle another Addams, and it was fortunate that the house that they lived in was created to withstand such specific spontaneity, but Hogwarts was _old_. One Addams was more than enough for it.

"Ah, just in time! Students, I would like to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody!"

Blaise let out the breath he had been holding. Thank the gods.

Harry leaned forward, intrigued. The man looked positively gruesome. He was missing quite a bit of his nose, and he only had one ear and one eye, his deeply scarred face obscured by stringy, wet hair. One of his legs was a wooden claw and he was hunched over like the burden of the world had rolled over him once or twice. He was a Ministry Auror, one of the best, or so he had read. So what was he doing here? A glance at Dumbledore had him sitting back, delighted.

This man had been brought here for _him_. So Dumbledore wasn't as unaffected as he seemed. He would have to send Aunt Dementia some Cockroach Clusters.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament, can you believe it!"

Draco had gotten over the lack of his precious Quidditch pretty quickly.

"It hasn't been held for over a century!"

"We know, Draco." Blaise sighed as they walked to their Herbology class.

"A competition! With Beauxbatons! And Durmstrang!"

"We know, Draco." Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"There was a death toll! People _died_!"

"We know, Draco." Harry smiled from under his umbrella. "We can only hope it'll be the same this year."

Draco was still vibrating with excitement as they entered the green house. He was like Uncle Liverworth in that respect, and Blaise was Uncle Lumeno, but less gentle. Draco yelped at the sudden kick to his leg.

"Bubotubers." Professor Sprout said briskly. Harry perked up at the mention of pus.

"-can do funny things to the skin, undiluted-"

"You don't say."

"Harveste, get that out of your mouth this instant!"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry was still licking his lips when they headed for Care of Magical Creatures. Blaise had a disgusted look on his face.

"I can't _believe_ you did that."

"You sound like my Mother, darling. Or you would, if Mother said anything like that."

They approached the fence where their Professor was standing. The rest of the class stood a little way away from them, as usual. Hagrid, cheerfully unaware of the class dynamic, rubbed his hands together before pointing at a few open wooden boxes at his feet. They were crawling with some sort of pale, shell-less life forms, slimy from hatching and glistening like a hospital's curse.

"Ever thought that maybe Hagrid's a long lost cousin of yours?" Hermione whispered to Harry.

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts!" Professor Rubeus Hagrid said with relish. The look in his eyes as he looked down on the weird creatures could only be summed up as adoration. "Jus' hatched! I thought you'd like ter raise 'em yerselves, make a project ou' of it!"

Blaise poked one with the end of his wand. It clacked at him angrily and shot off a flame that nearly roasted his eyebrows.

"Definitely a member of your family, Harveste. I'd bet money on it."

"Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. I've never had 'em before, so we got ant eggs and frog livers and bits o' grass snake- see which ones they go for."

Draco picked up a piece of liver fastidiously. "This is so demeaning – Harveste, this stuff is for the _Skrewts_, not _you_."

"It's so hard to get ant eggs around here. Alright, alright…here you go, my beauty…"

"Mister Addams, yer doin' well there! What're you feedin' 'em?"

"My blood, Professor." Harry said, smiling up at the half-giant. Another Skrewt scuttled over his hand and latched onto his thumb.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Maybe we should've taken a leaf from Hermione's book and gotten out of this class." Blaise said, back in the sickly-sweet atmosphere of the Divination Tower.

He looked over at Harveste, then looked away quickly. His friend was carefully licking over the wounds he had received via the Skrewts. Hagrid had looked suitably shocked for about one-tenth of a second, then clapped his hands with delight as he saw his little creatures start molting in front of his eyes. When they had left, the ones who had tasted Addams blood were noticeably larger and darker than the others, and the last they had seen, the bigger ones had been advancing on the smaller. They were cannibals too, it seemed.

Draco had brought Granny Frump's book to class. _Toe of a castrated arsonist_, he was mouthing, forehead furrowed in concentration.

Harry was looking at Professor Trelawney as she explained the importance of mapping the stars. He wondered if his Astronomy Professor knew that Trelawney was encroaching on her subject. That would one fight worth watching. He had heard Professor Sinistra was a dab hand at the mace.

It was as if all his teachers had had their blindfolds whipped off this year, and now they were seeing what he could become. Professor McGonagall's eyes had been stern and unbending that morning, and Professor Snape as well, better than ever and just as bitter, though Harry had been considerate enough not to leave him any scars from last year. Professors Flitwick and Sprout had been unsure, but he was good at their class and didn't cause any trouble that they could see. Professor Trelawney walked in a haze of Forgetfulness Potions and Obliviates, so she talked and talked with no memory of what had happened during the last exams, but Healer Pomfrey had _looked_ at him with calculating eyes. He had heard that she had been in the midst of the wars, but no one was quite sure which side she had been on. The Pomfreys were an old family, never having declared for either Dark or Light. Someone to watch, definitely.

He could hear the stones of the castle whisper as he walked by, voices chanting over and over. _Dark Lord, Dark Lord, like Voldemort…_He was sure Dumbledore was behind it. It was a sign of old age, being obtuse and hard-headed. The Heamaster stood steadfast in the assurance that there was a straight line to the future, that the way put forward was the only way. He was like Lucius Malfoy in that respect. The man had been frightened that night they had visited, but proud and power-hungry. Harry could respect that; every dark of the moon, he himself hungered for the Power. But unlike them, he knew there was a third path, or maybe even a fourth, or a fifth. Possibilities were endless, and a single prophecy didn't change that, because the future was fluid, changeable, malleable. He had changed his future, so why couldn't they?

He was sure the Headmaster would try to coerce him into fighting old Tom. He had every intention to, but Dumbledore didn't need to know that. He wanted the Light to win over the Dark, but Harry was on the side of Blood, and no matter what manner of Auror was thrown at him, he would just kill them, glorify in their death, and move on.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Well, well. Polyjuice Potion, was it? He had been around Grandmama long enough to recognize the smell of boiled leeches. He wondered whether Dumbledore knew. Harry gazed with new eyes at their Defense Professor as he stomped up and down the front of the class, shouting about CONSTANT VIGILANCE_._

"He's quite enthusiastic, isn't he?_" _Draco whispered. His hand was acting as a bookmark in the Moste Potente Potions. It seemed Grandmama had found a convert. He would look forward to whatever they cooked up next summer. It would be exciting to say the least.

"There'll be no gossiping in my class, laddie!"

A spell tore through the room and hit Draco. It turned him into a small white ferret.

Harry blinked down at him for a long moment, and then gathered his transformed friend into his lap. There was an indignant squeak. Blaise, horrified as he was, had to muffle a laugh.

"Leave it!" Moody growled, clanking up to them.

"Why? He looks adorable." There was another squeak, now furious, and Draco bit at Harry's fingers. "Too adorable."

"Cute or not, there'll be none of that chit-chat here, not when I'm teaching. Understood?"

"As you say, Professor." There was another _bang_, and Harry found himself with a lapful of red-faced Draco. "Comfortable, darling?"

"It's always _me_ that has to be put in these embarrassing situations…" Their blond friend groaned, scrambling off quickly. His dignity had evaporated a long, long time ago.

"Hush, Draco." Harry said smilingly as the sullen Auror retreated back behind his desk.

Blaise was trying to stifle his laughter, and Draco glared at him. "You get on his lap next time and see how you like it, you ponce."

"I'll be glad to oblige," Harry turned his smile on Blaise, and he found his mirth drain away, replaced by a blush that reached the roots of his hair and he didn't know _why._

"So - straight into it. Curses." Their teacher announced darkly in his scratchy growl. "According to the Ministry, I'm supposed to be teaching you countercurses, but Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful."

Harry's fingers slowly twirled a _senbon_ and his eyes had that creepy thoughtful look that usually signaled an attack.

Whether it was for Harveste's sake or Professor Moody's, Blaise didn't know, but after a moment, his hand grazed over the slim cold wrist. The brunette turned to him, the calculating look as impermeable as ever. But the _senbon_ was put away, and Blaise breathed easier.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

They were in the Slytherin common room, still talking about Professor Moody's class. Harry had been interested for a bit at the mention of the Cruciatus curse – having had it cast at him at least twice now – and it sounded worth experimenting with. Perhaps he would let it hit him some time.

The Killing Curse had been like some sort of lame joke. Why have the Imperius and the Cruciatus, only to insult your prey with an Avada Kedavra? Were wizards so frightened by their own mortality that they feared a simple and _painless_ death? He knew of plenty down in the dungeons of his home who would _beg_ for such an indulgence.

"The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!" Hermione was saying hotly, looking like she wanted to beat Draco over the head with her book bag. Knowing just how many books she had, it would be certain death. Harry paused his Transfiguration homework to watch.

"No matter how you want to say it, Hermione, it's not going to sound any better. It's still _spew_." Blaise pointed out, then ducked as Hermione growled and slashed at him with a butterfly knife. That reminded Harry about weapons practice. They would have to have one soon.

"What've we told you about letting Mudbloods in here, Addams?"

Hermione paused, her wrist caught in Blaise's hand. They had fallen on the couch and were in a very compromising position, but when faced with Four towering morons, position was the least of their worries.

"Anthony, Millicent, Daphne, Gregory. And the rest of the Slytherins as well. My, my, such a welcome." Harry stood up, dusting off his skirt. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We warned you last year, _Addams_." Daphne said, her eyes narrow. "We don't want her kind in here."

"I'm a witch like you are!" Hermione said angrily, untangling herself from her friend's unresponsive limbs and standing up next to Draco.

"You are _nothing_ like me, Mudblood."

"Harveste-"

But Daphne seemed to have thrown caution to the wind, backed as she was by their entire house. She strode up to Harry until they were nose to nose. He could feel her Power flare just under her skin. She was strong, and gutsy, and very, very dead once he figured out where to stash the body. But for now, Harry smiled.

"You don't scare me, Addams. You don't scare _any _of us. You follow our rules, you understand, or there'll be trouble. We can make you, Blaise and Draco think you're in hell. We don't want this Mudblood here. And we don't want you or your stupid Blood Magic. You're nothing now." She hissed, then bent even closer. "_He's _coming, and when he gets his hands on you, you'll wish you were dead."

"How dare you!"

The slap rang through the silent common room.

Hermione's chest was heaving with ire. Blaise and Draco, also glaring at their housemates, had to hold her arms to keep her from getting at Daphne again. The Slytherin witch was on the floor, one hand on her reddened cheek.

"Don't you dare threaten Harry, any of you! You stay away from us!"

"Little _fylgja_," Harry said fondly, coming up behind her and wrapping her up in an embrace. His freezing touch, completely unexpected, stilled her, and she looked up questioningly.

She was getting a _hug_. From _Harveste Addams._ Blaise and Draco looked at each other,

Then Harry's Power rushed through the room, making everyone shiver. Shadows started to encroach between the candlelight, and their breath appeared as white mist.

Harry was _smiling_.

"You were saying, Daphne?" He said blithely.

"_Bastard_. You gay cross-dressing freak and your little hag and your band of faggoty shits," Daphne seethed venomously as she stood up. Anthony and Marcus Flint flanked her, looking like couple of hulking mountains. "You'll be sorry you ever put a hand on me, Granger. I promise you that."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"I could kill her. I think I could actually kill her with my bare hands."

Hermione continued to mutter to herself, twisting her fingers into knots. Harry walked beside her as they filed towards the school grounds under the sunset. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations were coming today, and they were expected to give a little show of school pride. Above them, the Slytherin flag flapped in the air, with the Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw flags beside it. Draco and Blaise were silent, mulling over what had happened in their common room.

They had never known Slytherins to show such open contempt. Draco had half a mind to tell his godfather, but Blaise was thinking about all the awful things that were going to happen to his housemates. When they had looked at each other in that stone-cold room, he knew that Draco had been thinking the same thing. They wanted to be there when it happened. They wanted a chance to extract a little vengeance too. No one had any right to talk to them like that, it was beyond stupid. Even now, the older Slytherins and Daphne were looking at them, their anger blatant as fire. Idiots, the lot of them. They should know better than to think Harveste had let them get away.

Blaise was also thinking about the hug, for some reason. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but when he had seen Harveste so affectionate with Hermione he had felt… just the slightest bit jealous.

"Look at the sky!"

Blaise shook himself free from his thoughts, ignoring the slight burn that he could feel on his cheeks, and looked up.

"It's a dragon!" Some excitable first-year exclaimed.

"It's a flying house!" Said another idiot.

"It's a bird," Harry chuckled into his fan. "It's a plane."

With a thunderous _crash,_ it landed. There were gigantic horses, each the size of a tree, and a huge, hulking coach that seemed overly-gilded because of its size. The door opened, and an enormous woman got out. If all of Beauxbatons was this intimidating, Draco thought, then their Hogwarts champion was going to be fucked.

The Headmistress, if that was what she was, seemed to be talking hurriedly to Dumbledore. She was gesturing frantically, and their Headmaster was getting more and more stoic.

Like froth from an inexpertly opened champagne bottle, a horde of shrieking girls tumbled out of the coach, tripping over their own feet, any chance of a sedate entrance ruined. A few were sobbing.

"Pathetic."

Blaise felt his heart stop. He knew that voice. He looked over at Draco, horrified.

"My Valkyrie," Harveste said, an uncharacteristic tinge of surprise in his even voice. "What are you doing here?"

_Another_ Addams. Another _Addams_.

Then the lake rumbled and started to boil. A dark, near-rotting boat with torn sails pushed its way out of the water. Blaise tore his eyes from the sight of Harveste twirling around his sister to look at it. Maybe if he ignored it for long enough, it would miraculously become untrue.

Water hadn't stopped pouring from the hull when the Headmaster of Durmstrang hurried down the ramp, followed by a dozen or so other students. It was like they were trying to get away from something, or some_one_. Then Viktor Krum emerged, the internationally famous Bulgarian National seeker, and he was talking to…a mound of hair?

"Cousin What?"

Oh _no_. It _couldn't_ be.

Blaise felt like he was watching from afar as both Harveste and Wednesday dashed up to the mound of hair and hugged it. It was moving and squeaking and they were nodding, like they understood every word.

It was another Addams. It couldn't be anything else.

There were three Addams. THREE. In Hogwarts. At the same time.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The whole school was buzzing over the appearance of Krum, the Durmstrang students, Krum, and almost Veela-like beauty of some of the Beauxbatons girls, Krum, the strange mound of mobile hair, and Viktor Krum.

The buzz was everywhere, except for the Gryffindor table. There, the tension was so thick it could have been cut into blocks and made into houses.

It could have been because the son of a Death Eater, the son of a Black Widow and the creepiest boy _ever_ had sat down like it was an absolutely normal thing to do.

It could have been because The Walking Hairpiece had also taken a seat there, though it had no visible knees, and it was eating, though there was no visible mouth either. The food just kept shrinking on its plate, like it was disappearing into the atmosphere.

It could have been because a twelve-year-old girl, who was so Gothic it deserved the capital letter, had taken the seat next to it. She had a glare like a zombie, blazing and undead, and every time she moved her cutlery, everyone within a hundred meter radius had this pressing urge to duck.

It could have been because _Viktor Krum_ had followed the Hairpiece and was at the Gryffindor table, talking to all five of the strange students and Hermione Granger as well.

And it kept on happening, day after day, for a whole week.

It was unreal. What in the world could they all possibly have in common?

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"The Krum Family has been studying Blood Magic for years. They teach a small course in Durmstrang, but it doesn't really go in-depth. Viktor here has kept me up to speed. The Library at their estate is to-die-for." Cousin What said. Or at least, that's what Harveste told Draco, Blaise and Hermione. All they had heard was _Bzz-bzzbzz-bzz-bzzzz-bzz._

"We would love to visit sometime." Harry turned his smile on Viktor. "And we extend our own invitation, isn't that right, Wednesday?"

Wednesday scowled, impaling a piece of roast beef on her fork. "This is the same stuff they have in France. When do we get _real_ food?"

Hermione made a face. She had heard about Veela stew.

Harveste had asked his sister how she had managed to talk Madame Maxime into letting her fly to Hogwarts. The trip, and indeed the Tri-Wizard Tournament, was meant for students seventeen years of age and above. She shouldn't even have been allowed on the coach. Wednesday had simply smiled at them, and when she pulled her braid over her shoulder, Draco had seen a silver gleam. There had also been a slight bloodstain on her shoe. He decided that he never wanted to know, ever.

Both Cousin What and Viktor Krum had added their names to the Goblet of Fire. So had Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff and Clifford Warrington, the sloth of Slytherin. Fred and George Weasley had also made a spirited try, and now they were just down the table, stroking their long, white beards and looking very pleased with themselves. The Gryffindors had been very gracious about the use of their table, though perhaps it had been more due to the fact that wherever What went, Viktor Krum went also. The Slytherins were seeing red about that. Blaise snorted. Serve them right.

Ronald Weasley and Seamus Finnegan had tried to strike up a conversation, and were currently glowing like a couple of fanboys whose wildest dreams had come true.

Fleur Delacour, one of the Beauxbatons girls, had also tried to talk to the celebrity, but one glimpse of Wednesday's dark eyes rising over the hunched shoulders had her skittering away like a frightened rabbit.

"When the champions' names are called, I would like to ask them to please come to the front of the Hall and into the next chamber -"

"_Bzz-bzzzz-bzzbzz-bzzz,"_ said Cousin What. Viktor tilted his head for a moment, then nodded.

"And to you too." He said in his low, husky voice.

"Any second now," Draco said, craning his head.

The wooden goblet on the dais flared red and spat out a charred bit of parchment. Dumbledore caught it.

"The Champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!"

"_BZZ!"_ huffed Cousin What.

"Language, Cousin What." Harry said with a smile. "Congratulations, Viktor."

Amid cheers, the Durmstrang student stood, and bowed to the audience. Then, before stepping towards the front of the Hall, he bent down.

And he kissed the top of Cousin What's head.

Harry, eyebrows arched as high as Draco had ever seen, looked at Wednesday. She shrugged, just as clueless.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons will be Fleur Delacour!"

"I hope she chokes on a toad." Wednesday automatically said, but her heart wasn't in it. She was still stunned.

"Cousin," Harry tried, clearing his throat. "You never told us that…that you had a _boyfriend_."

Apparently, hair could blush.

"The Champion for Hogwarts will be Cedric Diggory!"

"How…?" Harry opened and closed his mouth for a minute, then turned to Hermione for supplication.

Good as she was with words, Hermione couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Is What a girl or a boy?" Draco whispered to his friend.

"We don't know. We never even knew that Cousin It, his father, was a _he_. It's an Addams mystery."

"_Bzz-bzzbzzz-bzzzz-bz-bz-bzzz-bzzbzzz."_

"Oh, well that's alright then." Wednesday said, sitting back. "As long as he doesn't get any funny ideas. You know what happens to people who get funny ideas."

"_Bzzz_."

"What happens to people with funny ideas?" Hermione asked.

"They start laughing. Till they die."

Dumbledore's voice, steady but with an underlying thread of tension, cut through their chuckles. "That's not…what on… Harry Potter."

Draco turned horrified grey eyes to Blaise when he saw his breath crystallize in the air.

The Goblet suddenly started to burn with a black flame. A second after everyone had ducked, it exploded.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

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…

End of Part 2

Gods, I'm running out of inspiration, but blow me if that last scene didn't just jump out at me. Surprised me too, I can tell you. Don;t kill me over my short chapter, I'm still writing, still writing. Just wanted you all to be in awe of the weird fantasy that is CousinWhatxViktorKrum


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Harveste Addams and the Goblet of Fire

Crossover: Harry Potter and the Addams Family

Summary: Let's have a little FUN this year, shall we?

Warning: Addams Family Sadism and Cross-dressing, Spoilers -do I have to write that?-

I apologize for my Wednesday being OOC. I'm used to being protective over my own brother, and I would bite through a bank vault to get to him. I'm not even going to bother having Viktor speak like a Bulgarian. He's just too cute for that *hides from Cousin What*. And forgive me for the pathetic French insert.

Thank you AmiconPhotoWhore, and Harveste thanks you too. I hadn't even thought of that!

Edit: This is what happens when you don't pay attention to your mum when she teaches you spanish! Thank you rune-ruin!

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.

…

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry left behind a silent Hall. As soon as the doors closed behind him and Dumbledore, every single student broke out into whispers.

"Just had to have a little more glory, huh?"

Cousin What's hair had been the only thing preventing Wednesday from dealing wrath and retribution all over the place when she had heard the words Harry Potter, and now the golden strands tightened around her wrists as she turned her snarl on an unfortunate Ronald Weasley.

"_What_ did you _say_ about my _brother_?"

The twins hauled their brother back and away, smiling maniacally.

"Nothing, he-"

"-didn't say anything-"

"-at all, isn't that-"

"-right, Ron, you-"

"-barmy, bollixed-up, brainless-"

"-barnacle?"

"_Bzzz-bzzz-bzbz,_"Cousin What said placatingly. Wednesday subsided with a growl.

Hermione had grabbed both of Draco and Blaise's hands in a panic when Harry had stood up after a long period of silence, his eyes hooded and his expression closed. Now she was squeezing them bloodless, and they weren't even wincing. They knew better than to think that Harveste would enter the Tournament without telling them. Someone had set him up. Someone had forced him to join. Someone was trying to kill him.

_Fuckingwasteofspacesonofa-_

Hermione was thinking about the look on Pansy's face when they had found her, and the way Harry had gone into the Chamber to face Lord Voldemort, and the knowledge that he would kill for them.

_-yellowscum-suckingshitassbucket-_

Blaise was thinking of that night in the infirmary, the feel of Vincent Crabbe's wand in his hand, the hand that had cupped his cheek, and the knowledge that Harveste would do anything to protect them.

_-bloodySkrewt-headedmotherfucker-_

Draco was thinking about his father, the way Harry had sought him out first, the way he had spoken and the promise he had made, that the four of them were more than friends and he would keep them alive through anything and everything.

_-whenIgetmyhandsonhim-_

_-I'llwringhisdamnneck-_

_-andI'lldanceonhisgrave-_

All three of them glared at the closed door.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"This is preposterous!"

"I demand that I be allowed to re-submit my students' names!"

Harry ignored the adults as they debated, choosing instead to stand next to Viktor and Cedric. Fleur was a little way away, standing in the shadows of her Headmistress. She was incandescent as well, like a spoiled little girl deprived of a treat, speaking rapidly in French.

"You submitted your name, Harveste?" Cedric asked curiously. "You're too young, aren't you?"

Viktor rumbled out a deep laugh. "There is no such thing when it comes to an Addams."

Harry looked at him appraisingly. "You seem to know a lot about us. I assume you've met Cousin It and his wife?"

"Indeed." The Durmstrang student looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "They warned me about the American part of their family. They say you are possessive."

Harry smiled up at him. His fingers moved, and to Cedric it looked like he had put his arm around Viktor's waist. Unseen, the blade had gone through thick cloth and silk with barely a pause, and now its cold edge was flush with warm skin. "I would say…protective. We hold our own close to our hearts."

"I know." The tall boy looked down at him, seemingly unconcerned. His eyes were warm and clear. "What is very important to me."

"Good." The knife withdrew into Harry's cloak. "_Valravn_."

Viktor blushed.

"He is just a little boy!" Fleur exclaimed.

Harry turned his attention to the rest of the room. All the eyes were on him. He smiled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"My student is right." Madame Maxime said. She was a frightening figure, flashing arms and enormous bosom towering over every single man in the room. He could see why Wednesday had chosen to stay in Beauxbatons. This was one prey who wouldn't go nicely into the good night. He had to admire his sister's taste. "You are too young to compete. You will be killed!"

"Well, if that's the case-"

"You have no choice. Your name was called." Bartemius Crouch said. He looked self-important, but tired. Harry remembered what Uncle Liverworth had said about him. He would be a good target too. "It's the rules."

Definitely a target, and just before the light in his eyes dimmed forever, he would lean in and say _Sirius Black says hello._

"My name is Harveste Addams, sir." Harry sighed. Not this again. The next person to call him that name was going to get it in the neck.

"It does not matter what you are called now. That name was on your birth certificate, and as such, is on your record. The Goblet's decision is binding and creates a magical contract between all of wizarding Britain and you. You must compete, or else suffer a lifetime as a Squib."

So what? He could think of a hundred, a thousand things much worse than a life without magic, and he hadn't even asked Wednesday yet.

Harry felt his brow furrowing and smoothed it out with effort. He would not let these people see him out of control. There would be time enough for that during the Tasks. He would be free to let loose then, and let the person who had entered his name be wary. He had the feeling it was the Polyjuiced Moody. All the better. He was looking forward to teaching that man some _manners_.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

They sat around the edge of the Great Lake, feeling the wind blow through their hair. The dark of the moon would come in the next three nights and there was fun to be had with three Addams around.

Harry was re-braiding Wednesday's hair, carefully going around the yards of thin wire she had coiled in it. Beside him were his cousin and his boyfriend. Even sitting down, the sleek golden hair covered every inch of Cousin What's body. Viktor sat next to him, one hand curled in the silky tresses.

"Did you find out who put your name in, Harry?" Wednesday asked. Silver flashed speedily through her fingers, making a low whirring noise. He knew she was anxious to find whoever had done it and put the fear of Addams in them, permanently.

"No, my Valkyrie, but I have a feeling we'll find out soon enough."

"Save a piece for me."

Harry smiled. "As you wish."

"Where are you guys going to sleep?" Hermione asked curiously. She leaned against Blaise's back, Draco sprawled beside her. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was deep in thought.

"The question is where are _we_ going to sleep?" Blaise muttered. "I won't put it past those bastards to murder us in our beds."

"Why?" Wednesday looked at him, then back at Harry. "Has someone done something?"

"Nothing to worry about, darling." Harry brushed a kiss over her forehead. "I'll take care of it."

"You can't kill all of them, Harveste." Draco said, finally opening his eyes. There was a gleam in them that Harry recognized, and he smiled with pride.

"The hell he can't."

"There are worse things than death, Draco." He smiled into Wednesday's hair, but his eyes were like emeralds in the dark. "And I intend to show them all just what they are."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

With two hands, making the potion was easier. Of course, Wednesday wouldn't stop trying to poison his hands, so it was more interesting too.

"Happy Halloween, Mother, Father."

"Wednesday? What…are you in Hogwarts?"

Both of them smiled, then Cousin What poked through their shoulders.

"_Bzz-bzzz."_

"Cousin What?"

The potion shimmered, then cleared to show Pugsley's face. "Hey all. Hey, Cousin What!"

"It's the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Father. They're holding it this year, and Harry's one of the participants."

"Wonderful! Another game is it? Brooms and things?" Their father rubbed his hands expectantly.

"No Father, more like death-defying stunts and battles against vicious creatures."

"Even better! When can we visit?"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Wednesday grabbed the nearest Skrewt and hugged it. Blaise rolled his eyes. Of course she would.

"Harry, I want one!"

Draco thought Hagrid would die with happiness.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The Slytherins made their move during Double Potions. Draco was just glad that Wednesday hadn't been there. It would have been a massacre instead of just an unmitigated disaster.

Their cauldrons had been doused in some sort of flammable potion. When the fires had been lit, Draco and Blaise had just leaped away in time.

Hermione's ingredients kept disappearing.

Someone kept casting little annoying spells at the four of them. They blocked as well as they could.

Snape kept turning a blind eye, smirking to himself.

Through all of that, Harry steadfastly kept working, the _zip_ of spells seeming to curve around him, and once, through him. He pared a root, his hands steady, sliced it into neat even pieces and popped them all into the cauldron.

Hermione threw up a shield to deflect a Jelly Legs Jinx.

Someone set fire to Draco's robes. Blaise threw water on it.

In went a few crushed eyes, a powdered beetle, a rotten egg, and when no one was looking, three spoons of brown granulated sugar and a bayleaf. Harry stirred in three times clockwise, stepped aside for yet another Tentacle Trap to go by him, and stirred it twelve times counter-clockwise.

Then he kissed all three of them, first Hermione, then Blaise, then Draco, on the mouth. Everyone froze. The three of them stared at each other.

_Ohnohedidn't._

Harry stepped back with a smile and was engulfed in a thick purple smoke. It filled the room rapidly, thickly, and there was a chorus of gasps and chokes. Professor Snape waved his wand to clear the room. The smoke dispersed, and everyone looked at each other.

Nothing had happened.

They filed out of the room, the rest of the Slytherins still glaring and muttering ominously under their breath. Nothing continued to happen.

Two hours later, after classes, Hermione handed out vials of light blue potion to every other Gryffindor who had been in the class. She could say nothing but what she had been told to say, which was: _Drink_ _it_. It tasted like marshmallows.

Half an hour later, every single Slytherin in that class, with the exception of Harry, Draco and Blaise, had developed a severe case of gonorrhea. Even Professor Snape.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Draco was still laughing about it a few days later.

"Gonorrhea, you…you…genius!"

Harry smiled serenely. "I don't know what you're talking about, darling. It is no concern of mine how indiscreet they are with their sexual partners."

"Fucking brilliant _genius_."

They were sitting at the Gryffindor table again today, and had been welcomed with open arms. Fred and George had heard about it and told the entire house. Professor Snape had looked murderous.

"Er…Harveste?"

Harry looked around. Cedric Diggory was standing behind him, his handsome face knotted in a frown. "Yes?"

"Can I…can I talk to you? In private?"

Blaise half-rose, but Harry waved him down again. Wednesday was glaring at the intruder, and even Cousin What's hair was making itself known, half curling around Harry's arm.

"_Bzz-bzbzbz-bzzz._"

"I'd be glad to, Cedric. _Une_ _moment_, _sil vous plait_."

They watched as the two walked out the double doors, Harry's slim figure dwarfed by the Hufflepuff's more muscular physique. Finally, Blaise spoke up.

"I didn't know he could speak French."

"We all can." Wednesday said, glaring at her porridge before adding a generous amount of Firewhisky and emptying the whole pepper pot into it. "We're just not allowed to speak it in the house. Mother would never get any rest if we did."

"It's dragons." Cedric said, as soon as they were out of earshot. "The first task, Harveste. It-it's dragons."

"Oh?" Harry looked at the boy thoughtfully, then nodded. "Thank you for telling me. Don't tell my sister though. She'll want to take my place."

"Er... She - she likes dragons?"

Harry noted the faint blush and raised an eyebrow. This _was_ a year for surprises.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry immediately made for Viktor the moment he stepped into the little classroom. Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff were there, talking to a photographer. Fleur was talking to Cedric, tossing back her silvery head of hair. Harry wondered whether she had ever done that move in Beauxbatons and what his sister had done about it.

"Did you know dragons were going to be the first task?" Harry asked the tall dark boy beside him.

Viktor shook his head. "Professor Karkaroff only told me this morning. I look forward to what you are going to do."

Harry smiled darkly.

"I wonder if I could have a word with young Harry before the photoshoot?" An unfortunate-looking woman asked. She was even worse off than Pansy, with a jaw that could have broken rocks and narrow eyes set in a face festooned with unmoving curls. She would have looked lovely mounted on a wall.

"Harveste, if you please." Harry said, stepping closer to her with a smile.

Viktor chuckled behind him. He had heard the irritation hidden behind the polite veneer.

The woman opened the door of a cupboard and motioned him in. It shut behind them.

There was silence. Viktor met Cedric's eyes, and the Hufflepuff excused himself politely from the Veela girl and made his way over.

There was a little _snick_.

Harry opened the door and strolled out, a satisfied look on his face. At least five minutes later, Rita Skeeter followed, her eyes dazed and looking a little unsure on her feet. To those who hadn't known or loved an Addams, it would have seemed that there had been 'Goings-On'. Viktor smiled knowingly.

"Um…" Ludo Bagman looked from a smirking Harry to a bewildered Rita. "Now, um – the wand-testing. Forward, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes. Miss Delacour?"

The French girl stepped forward, her haughty smile glowing. The wand-maker looked at her wand and swished it around experimentally.

"Nine and a half inches, inflexible, made of rosewood and a core of Veela hair."

"One of my grandmothers." She said proudly.

"Very well. Mister Diggory?"

Cedric smiled sheepishly at both Viktor and Harry before approaching the man. Wednesday would knock that shyness right out of him on the first day, Harry thought fondly.

"Twelve and a quarter inches, springy made of ash and a core of unicorn hair. Mister Krum?"

Viktor walked forward. He looked very awkward on the ground, with an odd rolling gait, but he was beautiful in the air. On a broom, he moved with the grace of a falcon.

"A Gregorovitch, if I'm not mistaken. Ten and a quarter inches, rigid, made of hornbeam and dragon heartstring. Mister… Addams?"

Harry drew out his wand. Its reddish wood glistened oddly in the light, like an oil slick or spilt blood that had half-dried on marble. Ollivander took one look at it, and shook his head immediately. "No one touches an Addams wand. Does it work for you?"

"Yes."

"Then that's all I need to know."

Harry smiled. Wise man.

Later on, the photographer who was developing the pictures was taken aback by the results. Every single picture with the Addams boy was strangely warped or distorted or…had faces where there weren't supposed to be faces.

He should have asked Colin Creevey for tips. Colin was the only person in the world who could take an Addams' picture and not suffer an excruciatingly painful death after three days.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Hermione tilted her head as she watched Cousin What and Viktor Krum, who were sitting just a little way down the table with the sixth years. Viktor was regaling them with stories of Quidditch practice gone awry, but the twins were making their own entertainment. They were trying to put things in Cousin What's hair, baubles and such that she knew from experience could smear you with jam, cover you with feathers, or make your ears bleed. Cousin What was fighting back, but in an indulgent way, if the slow measured moves were anything to go by. The hair rippled like a curtain, wrapping around wrists and fingers, but every time one of the twins managed to attach something, the hair would shimmer, and the bauble would appear on the other side and be flicked into the air. Hermione tilted her head again. It was like Cousin What was nothing _but_ hair, because things seemed to go straight through, and she'd never seen a hand or a foot or a single inch of skin in all this time.

"How do they have sex, you think?"

Draco spat out his pumpkin juice. Harry grabbed his sister's juice-soaked arm before she could stab his friend. He waved a hand languidly and her dress was freshly-ironed with her still in it. Wednesday sat down, mollified.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Cedric had been the first one to face his dragon, then Fleur. Viktor was rubbing his thumb over a braided bracelet as he looked at the tent flaps. His face wouldn't show it, but Harry could tell he was tense. It was in the hunch of his shoulders and the stiff line of his spine. He'd seen it many a time. He'd been a cause of it too.

The bracelet was a soft tawny color. It looked like a bit of Cousin What's hair. His Cousin was obviously in love to sacrifice one his precious tresses. Perhaps they would be hearing funeral gongs soon, and maybe the squeaky sound of a new Cousin.

Viktor's name was called.

"Slay them." Harry said with a smile, giving him an encouraging nod. "This might be the only time you get to impress Wednesday."

The Seeker nodded, then once more with conviction. Wednesday _thirsted_ more than anyone in the family and they both knew it, and it would take barrels of blood before she would even deign to smile at their cousin's boyfriend.

Harry lay back in the cot, his hands pillowing his head. He was almost sure that it had been Moody who had put his name in for the Tournament. The man had reeked of excitement when he had stomped up to him and tried to tell him how to deal with the dragon. But then again, everyone had been in knots over the First Task, and even Ludo Bagman had been bursting with tips.

His mind turned to his three friends. They would be sitting with Cousin What and Wednesday in the stands, and hopefully that would prevent the Slytherins from doing anything stupid. Well, stupid-er.

Hermione had looked like she wanted to faint when he had told her about the dragons. Draco had dropped the Moste Potente Potions book on his foot. Blaise had said nothing, but his knuckles had been white. Harry smiled fondly. It was sweet that they still worried for him, after all this time.

"Harveste Addams!"

Time to play.

He stepped out into the shade of the awning. The stadium around him was huge, and everyone was alternately cheering and booing. There was one side, red and gold, that was mostly silent except for the twins who had a banner that read: _CLAP, CLAP, CLAP! _Harry hid a smile in his sleeve. He hadn't been allowed anything except his wand, but that was a stupid rule, and easily worked around. First things first, though.

He extended his arm into the sunshine and snapped his fingers. Black smoke began to condense out of the air, pouring into a familiar mold.

Blaise hit his forehead with a fist repeatedly. "Does he have to be so sensitive to sunlight?"

Wednesday looked at him from under the shade of her own umbrella and rolled her eyes.

Harry took a few steps forward, ignoring the jeers and taunts, surveying the dragon minutely. It was a big one, the toughest one or so he had heard, a huge black monster with dull scales and sharp spikes and poisoned fangs. Its enormous yellow eyes gleamed with malice, and he tilted his umbrella up to look into them.

Dragons were neither Dark nor Light nor Blood. They were their own magic, a force of nature, part of the earth and the sky and the waters, and trying to kill it would be like blowing up the world. She was a mother, and he could see the grey of her new eggs between her scaled thighs and the rocky nest. There was a gleam of gold among them, but getting it wouldn't be easy. She was angry that she had been taken from the freedom of her mountains, Stunned and pumped with tranquilizers, furious that she had been put in the midst of a thousand meals that weren't running away and _pissed_ that there was a morsel of food in front of her that stank of Blood Magic. She roared to the sky, like a lion's roar but multiplied a million times, a long, loud ululation filled with chaotic killer intent.

Harry smiled. _Good_.

He rolled to the right as the first stream of flame erupted from her mouth, then sprang forward, wand in one hand and an axe materializing in the other. She took a swipe at him and he ducked, feeling the wind whistle as the dangerously sharp claws passed over his head. He moved in a zigzag pattern, avoiding flames and claws and wings, his eyes not on the egg but on hers, smiling like a fiend. He did a backflip as a gout of flame burst forth again, but the dragon had learned her lesson now. She swept it from side to side, and for a single heart-stopping moment, Harry was engulfed in dragonfire.

Hermione screamed in terror, and only Blaise's strong grip prevented Draco from vaulting down to the grounds.

Wednesday's narrowed eyes combed the grounds. A coil of golden hair wound around her arm.

"_Bzz-bzzzzz-bzbz._"

"Wha-what is it?" Hermione cried. Wednesday could see the wild, mad look in her eyes, and in Draco's, and in Blaise's. Funny friends her brother had.

She waved her hand downwards, and they turned to look at the arena again. A black form was scaling effortlessly up the back of the dragon, though it stomped and shook like a dog trying to get rid of a particularly bothersome flea.

The dragon roared again and its tone changed into something more sinister. Harry felt its Power tear and rip at his clothes, and he laughed as he continued to climb.

"Pretty little thing," he whispered, and the wind carried his words away. He was on her neck now, and as its head turned to snap at him, with one quick move he thrust his hand deep into her mouth and jumped away.

He was halfway across the grounds, the Golden Egg in his arms, before the dragon collapsed with a deafening crash, its eyes wide and staring.

"_Harry_!"

He tossed his sister the Egg moments before Hermione ran into his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Why're you asking - you were on fire! I saw you!"

Harry continued to smile, then he pulled Hermione down with him as a knife buzzed through the air. The axe edge shone brightly as it went back the same path.

"You didn't kill it," Wednesday grabbed the axe, and advanced with a threatening smirk. "You're getting _soft_."

An explosion ripped past them, then another, and another, each one louder and wetter than the last. Chunks of bite-sized flesh rained down on his opened umbrella. Draco and Blaise were unfortunately soaked in unmentionables, and when they stepped forward with their slime-covered scowls, their shoes squished.

"Am I now?"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

A Wednesday with an axe could make a very definite impression. It could also be because he had reduced a full-sized dragon into a pot of stew. Or perhaps it was because Madame Pomfrey still hadn't found a working cure for the particular strain of gonorrhea that he had used.

Harry's smile cleared the common room as he and his friends entered. Cousin What trailed beside them. Viktor had gone back to the Durmstrang ship, but his small enchanted dragon figure was purring happily in a nest of blond tendrils. Wednesday had tried numerous times to retrieve it, but had ended up in the Lake, tossed in the air and hung upside down for her troubles. No matter what he, she or it was, Cousin What was still an Addams.

Harry primly sat on a couch, his arms around the Golden Egg. A knife appeared in his hand and, as his friends and family settled around him, he pried it open.

A high-pitched screech ripped through the air with a vengeance. It was nigh indescribable, a thousand mauled cats, a thousand nails on a black board, a thousand E-string violins played by amateurs, a thousand starving changelings, a thousand rampant banshees, all rolled into one long, long wail that bored into your eardrums and made your teeth vibrate painfully.

Harry hummed along. Cousin What started to bob, rocking from side to side.

"Harveste," Blaise grunted through gritted teeth. "Shut it _down_."

The Egg snapped shut, becoming seamless once more, and the sound dissipated.

Draco stuck one finger in his ear and wiggled it around as he tried to yawn. "What in the fuck was that racket?"

Harry and Wednesday looked at each other. His sister's eyes were filled with relish as the both hissed out the word. They hadn't had this particular delicacy in _ages._

"Merfolk."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry watched his Slytherin housemates eat with a smile, ignoring his own breakfast. Beside him, Hermione, Blaise and Wednesday were fighting over the last fried egg. He had asked - _persuaded_ - his sister not to use the more lethal part of her arsenal, so they weren't in any immediate danger. Still, the clash of weapons was loud, and they were so focused on each other that they hadn't noticed Draco sneaking the plate past them.

His green eyes followed Daphne Greengrass' movements as she added a bit more sugar to her oatmeal. He chuckled to himself and stood up to go to his Care of Magical Creatures class.

There were only a dozen Skrewts now, each big enough to go halfway to his knee. Their pincers clattered happily as he appeared, and he patted one fondly as it stung his hand.

"Er…would yeh like a plaster, Mister Addams?"

Harry looked up, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. The poison had a pleasant tingle, but it wasn't nearly lethal enough yet. He would have to give them a bit more blood.

"No, thank you, Professor."

The half-giant nodded thoughtfully, then turned to the rest of the class. "We'll be puttin' 'em down fer a kip today, just in case they like hibernatin'. Three of yeh to a Skrewts, please…"

The Skrewt had no eyes, but Harry could feel it looking at him pleadingly. He put a large blood-soaked sponge in front of it. The dragon was still useful in death. The sponge disappeared, and the Skrewt started to buzz in contentment.

Draco ran by him, yelling bloody murder, his own furiously clicking Skrewt firing blasts of blue-tinged fire every few feet as it chased him down. Blaise was laughing so hard he was crying.

No matter how he tried to deny it, Blaise had a sadistic side to him and he reveled in it.

Half an hour into the class, Marcus Flint excused himself. After fifteen minutes, Bodro Derrick and William Harper followed him.

Harry smiled and stroked the Skrewt's hard black scales. It started to buzz louder. He wondered what he could name it.

Five minutes later, Daphne Greengrass started to throw up and Millicent Bulstrode was doubled over in pain.

Madame Pomfrey had her hands full for the rest of the day, dealing with the most diverse case of food poisoning she had ever encountered. And she _still_ hadn't gotten rid of the gonorrhea.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Dear Lady Addams, would you be-"

"-be so kind as to grace us lowly-"

"-worthless, disgraceful, ignoble-"

"-no-account, slimeballs, us worms-"

"-us cretins really-"

"-with your devilishly charming presence-"

"-and be our date for the Yule Ball?"

Forks flew with deadly accuracy, but the Weasley twins weren't the Gryffindor Beaters for nothing.

"They've got some balls on them, haven't they?" Draco said to Blaise as he watched Wednesday go after the two redheads with murder in her eyes.

"Damn straight."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

In the end, Wednesday hadn't managed to catch, torture or kill any of the twins, and had been so impressed she had agreed. Cedric had sighed at his loss and had asked Hermione, who had blushed redder than the fires of hell before accepting. She had asked Harry's permission first, of course.

Draco and Blaise were getting desperate and very annoyed.

"Oh bloody, godsdamned crystal ball, reveal to me my date, otherwise I'll shove you up a centaur's ass."

Harry chuckled. "That's not exactly the way to go about it, darling."

Blaise glared at the lump of round rock before him. It was Harveste's so he was pretty sure it was laughing at him.

"You two could go with each other, you know. There aren't any rules about that."

Draco looked aghast. "Go? With _him_?"

"Hey, I'm right here, you know." Blaise flicked a quill at the blond, who caught it and stuck his tongue out at him. Then he turned a suspicious look on his friend. "Who are you going with, Harveste?"

Draco perked up, interested, his silver eyes gleaming though they were just the tiniest bit narrowed. "Yes, _Harveste_. Who are you going with?"

Harry simply smiled and kissed them both on the cheek before walking away.

After a moment, Draco sighed. "He's a right bastard, isn't he?"

"Bloody fucking tease is what he is."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

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..

End of Part 3

I hope y'all don't mind that I put Cedric's Dragon announcement before the whole Rita Skeeter thing. It just seemed to work better that way. My gods, I am smoking like a freaking chimney here…


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Harveste Addams and the Goblet of Fire

Crossover: Harry Potter and the Addams Family

Summary: Let's have a little FUN this year, shall we?

Warning: Addams Family Sadism and Cross-dressing, Spoilers -do I have to write that?-

Wow, over a hundred reviews! Y'all got me nervous now. Gotta make an awesome chapter, yosh! And all your suggestions! You are all mad, darlings, so devilishly, wonderfully, weirdly mad! And I get to take credit for that!

In my mind my Gryffindors aren't OOC at all. Without Harry and Ron to stir up trouble and Draco being a right prick about everything, I would assume that they would be just like the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Besides, Fred and George like them :) Y'all got Draco mad at me now…

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-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The Forbidden Forest had never been more unwelcoming. Treacherous frost covered the hard ground, lying in wait for unwary feet. Dark was almost falling, the sun making its last crimson mark in the sky, and a pale sliver of moon was already visible. To anyone in the wrong frame of mind, it looked like a skull's grin, cold and dead.

There were hungry eyes, in sets of two, four, and even eight, shining ominously in the shadowed canopy of the trees. They were all trained in the direction of one clearing, and if they were lucky, on _dinner_.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, this is my favorite shirt!"

Hermione laughed, twirling the staff about her fingers. It was thick, about five feet long, and the setting sun's light gave the blades on each end a bloody tinge. "You shouldn't be wearing it during practice then."

"A little needle and thread, darling." Harry advised as he slid backwards effortlessly, each wave of his fan preventing a fencing rapier from slicing into him. Wednesday growled and swung her hand back and up, and was blocked with a hatchet.

Blaise huffed with irritation as he clutched the torn sleeve, stepping to the side quickly when a knife slashed down beside him. He turned, scowling. "Seriously?"

Draco grinned at him then tried to cut off his head again. "Yup, seriously."

"Dirty pool, just like Father." Harry chuckled. The tables had turned and now he was after Wednesday, who ducked, evaded, and finally caught the _senbon_ and started throwing them back, only to look down in surprise as her fingers started to smoke. Harry smiled. "Dirty pool."

Draco, true to his personality, liked getting up close and personal, and so favored hand weapons. Hermione, who just loved beating everyone up, be it with her intelligence or otherwise, used the long staff to keep people at a fair distance every time she swung. Blaise, on the other hand, liked to avoid.

And he was good at it. He swung himself up into a tree, and just as Draco was a few feet away, he loaded the crossbow and fired.

Draco was good at avoiding too. He was adept getting through heavy fire while grinning like an absolute maniac.

Blaise vaulted off the branch. His landing wasn't as neat as he would have liked, but at least he had raised his crossbow. It prevented Hermione from braining him into next Tuesday. He kicked out at her knees, which was crueler than aiming at her feet because doing so made her jump higher, otherwise she would have to spend a week in leg braces. He began to run again.

"Hey Harveste," Draco called over the metallic din. "Who are you going to the Ball with? _Yoww_!"

Blaise rose up behind him like a malignant demi-god. "Keep your head in the game, _darling_."

"Fuck off." The blond muttered as he took a swipe at head height and another just above his sternum. "Like you don't want to know."

_Thunk-thunk_.

"Hermione!"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

There was nothing for it. Asking Slytherin girls were out, not least because the majority of them were still being treated for the hundred and one ailments that Harveste had smilingly bestowed on them. In order not to be found out, he had inflicted them on himself and Wednesday too, but that was because they were the only two people in Hogwarts who actually liked having a flesh-eating bacteria gnawing at them. It had cleared up in time for the Yule Ball though.

Draco and Blaise were going alone, together, but not _together_ together. Just… they would appear at the same time, but they weren't going _with_ one another… just…

Draco glared at his reflection in the mirror. It stared smugly back at him.

"C'mon, you dandy, enough beautifying and let's just go and get it over with."

They made their way out of the dungeons. Harveste had disappeared over two hours ago, and they hadn't seen him since.

_Probably off snogging his date, _Draco thought mutinously. He didn't know why he was so jealous. Probably because he hadn't gotten a date himself and he was stuck with the same person he had been with for four years. Even _Hermione_ had gotten a date. Wednesday had gotten _two_, and she was _mental_.

They were ahead of them now, the Weasley twins like two beanpoles around a dark, haunted well. She was gliding sedately on the stones, dressed in something that looked very Morticia. She had worn her hair loose tonight, and it tumbled down her back like a tsunami. She looked like a vampire bride.

So did Hermione, much to Blaise's surprise. He hadn't thought it would be possible, but the witch had managed to groom her hair into sleek reddish waves, and her make-up must have been put on with a shovel, because she was gloriously pale with a wine-red dress that gave her graceful curves. Cedric looked very pleased with his date.

"You clean up nice, Hermione." Draco said, bowing over her hand before giving it an old-fashioned peck. Blaise repeated the gesture. It was the respectful way to greet a lady in pureblood circles, and Hermione was as deserving of that honor as anyone else.

They knew better than to kiss Wednesday's hand though. Harry had told them of her love for poisons years ago.

"Thanks, you guys." Hermione blushed, then peered behind them. "Where's Harry?"

"We thought he'd be with you."

"Champions!" Professor McGonagall called. "Champions, line up here please! Everyone else, inside!"

"We'll see you later." Hermione smiled at them. "Save us a seat, okay?"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"By the _gods_."

It was a jaw-dropping moment, it really was. And also a moment for clutching silverware and glaring.

Harveste – it could only be Harveste – had his hair pulled back at the name of his neck with a green silk ribbon, the same that they had seen him wearing all around school. He was wearing black, of course, black overcoat, black vest, black tie. He was also wearing _trousers_, and now they thanked all the gods they knew that he didn't wear them on a regular basis. They clung to his long, long legs like sin on holiday, and even his dove-grey silk shirt, a few buttons undone to show off a toned chest, was an indictment against common decency. It didn't make any sense since he was barely showing any skin, but Harveste Addams in men's clothing looked hot. Really, really _hot_.

And his date was _gorgeous_.

She was a tall, willowy brunette, her hair put up in intricate knots with a few dark strands brushing against the slim column of her neck. She had deep, soulful eyes, heavily shadowed with mascara and dark, silvery and green eyeshadow. Her soft pink lips were slightly pouty, the lack of lipstick managing to look perfect against the jade and sapphire shades of her ballgown. Her hands were delicate, snow white against Harveste's velvet clad arm. Even her _ears_ were perfect.

As soon as the first dance was finished, Harveste disappeared into the shadows with her, barely glancing at their table. Was he that infatuated? _Seriously_?

Draco and Blaise weren't speaking to each other, and Hermione had mauled her bouillabaisse.

"_Bzzzzz-bzbz."_ Cousin What said, somewhat smugly.

Victor chuckled and took another bite of mashed potatoes.

The beautiful dark-haired vixen appeared again, a violin in her swan-like hands. She gracefully made her way to the stage where the orchestra was playing and whispered into the ear of the conductor. Draco caught a glimpse of an ankle that would have made Michelangelo cry, and snapped his spoon in half.

_Slag._

The conductor bowed and the band stopped playing. Harveste's date stepped up to the podium and graced them all with a dazzling smile.

Then she put her bow to the string and began to play.

Wednesday started to smile.

"Fred, George," She said, standing up imperiously. "Make yourselves useful and dance with me."

"At once, angel of the night!"

"Your wish is our command!"

Despite his unexplainable anger, Blaise groaned. He never saw that one coming. One Gomez was enough, thank you.

The music was enchanting, surprisingly fast-paced but each note as clear as crystal. The beauty swayed to the music, the bow leaping effortlessly in her fingers as she played one of the more difficult pieces in Brahms' repertoire, the Hungarian Dance No. 5.

Wednesday moved with deadly grace, her dangerous smile flashing as she twirled and stepped. The twins kept up with her, not gangly like Ronald Weasley, but with measured, precise steps, like they had been practicing. It looked sensual, sexual, something a twelve-year-old should have known nothing about. But then again she wasn't just any regular twelve-year-old. She danced like her Mother, one minute pressed against George, and the other, sliding her hands down Fred's sides. Her smile grew. One flick of the wrist had Fred flying through the air, and a roundhouse kick swept George off his feet, but he did a handstand and jerked himself right way up, catching Fred's hand with his and pulling him closer to steady him. They kept up with her, step by step, throw by throw until there weren't just bodies moving, there was cutlery too. And shelled clams, for some reason.

"They're absolutely mad." Draco said, his eyes still on the raven-haired wench with the violin.

"They look like they're having fun, actually." Hermione answered, now murdering a lemon meringue. Cedric laughed beside her. He didn't look like he minded that his date wasn't paying attention to him. His eyes were on the stage as well, head cocked as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle.

The music ended with a flourish, and Harveste's date bowed to the roaring applause as she stepped off the raised dais. Wednesday had gone back to her seat, but the twins were lapping up the stunned accolade they were receiving.

Blaise watched with venomous eyes as She made her way to their table, all smiles, and sat down, carefully arranging her skirt to show it off. Then his eyes strayed down to the violin she still held with one hand. It had a green silk ribbon tied around its neck.

_No way._

"Hello, darlings."

"_HARVESTE?_"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"I should have known, even through all that damn makeup!" Hermione hissed as they watched the twins dance with Harry and Wednesday. "He pulled the same Transfiguration trick on me during the exams last year!"

"He's quite good at dancing." Cedric commented as the flurry of skirts got even more fast-paced. Blaise and Draco still weren't talking.

"You should've seen him do the Mamushka." Hermione took a sip of her punch and nearly spat it out again. The stuff burned a line down her throat and she grappled for a general antidote she had started hiding in her purse ever since their first summer in the Addams house. Wednesday _loved _poisons.

The orchestra was trying to keep up with the tempo of the dance and failing miserably. A few bows started to smoke.

"What's the Mamushka?"

A string snapped, leaving a thin bloody welt over one violinist's cheek. He couldn't stop playing. It was like he was compelled.

Hermione downed the spicy liquid, and waved for Draco and Blaise to do the same. Blaise looked down at his cup, then rose with a sigh and made for the punch bowl. Draco waved his wand over their goblets, muttering darkly to himself. Hermione smiled apologetically at a confused Cedric and continued to explain. "It's a really dangerous Addams traditional dance, but they do it really well. They have these knives, see -"

A cello exploded, then the drum set, one drum at a time, then the violas. Still, in the cloud of wood chips and shrapnel, the rest of the orchestra continued to play, dedicated, as it were, to the very end.

It ended with Wednesday singing. A few of the musicians were still conscious enough to play along in the background.

Blaise started as a frigid fingertip poked his hand. Harry smiled and motioned him to look at the stage. The little vampire bride stood proudly, her vermillion smile as near to beastly as it could get without sprouting fangs. Her voice ran up and down the scale smoothly, her tone menacingly beautiful and delicately haunting at the same time. Viktor was enchanted and he whispered to Cousin What in rapid Bulgarian, gesturing fluidly. Cousin What leaned closer, hair bobbing in an affirmative.

"What's she singing?" Draco whispered to Harry, forgetting that he was a little miffed at his friend.

"_Der_ _Holle_ _Rache_ _kocht_ _in_ _meinem_ _Herzen_. It's her favorite song." Harry smiled. "It means 'Hell's vengeance boils in my heart'."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Cedric had added himself to their little group now, though he was paying a bit more attention to Wednesday, hooked by her performance at the Ball. He had given her his own dragon figurine and she hadn't known whether to strangle him or maim him and scatter his body parts to the wind. So she had kept quiet. The twins had issued challenges a number of times, and he had bemusedly accepted. They cancelled each other out nicely.

Harry had teased his sister about that and only his quick reflexes had kept him from an early, painful demise. An angry Wednesday was a good way to keep in shape.

Draco and Blaise were childishly refusing to talk to him. Harry just smiled. They would come around.

It was unicorns today in Care of Magical Creatures, and Hagrid was nowhere to be found. How odd.

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," The short, stubby teacher said. "Boys keep back. They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns."

It was a disgustingly ethereal creature, a full fifteen hands high, and all the girls were clustered around it, their faces painted with wonder. At least the Gryffindors were. The Slytherins were talking lowly amongst themselves. They hadn't made a move in a while, hampered as they were with their persistent gonorrhea and the consistent flare-up of headaches and nosebleeds, so they were probably due a little _faux_ _pas_.

_Click click_.

There in the undergrowth, the sun glinted off a black carapace. Harry followed without a backward glance, disappearing into the bushes.

The Skrewts, now as big as Labradors, swarmed to him, nudging him down to the ground so he could pet them better. Their venom was more dangerous now, capable of burning a hole through steel. He smiled elatedly. Grandmama had never had this particular kind of poison before. She would be pleased.

The earth thundered under him, and then there were shouts.

He blinked, then started to coax the Skrewts off him.

"Shoo, my darlings, I'll feed you later."

Harry made his way back to the group and felt a little frown forming between his eyebrows. He smoothed it away carefully before approaching. Professor Grubbly-Plank was trying to calm the madly neighing unicorn, which was rearing high into the air, its hooves flashing and its eyes wide and bulging.

"Get Madame Pomfrey!" She yelled at the group of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Some were teary-eyed and shocked but all of those were the Lions, Harry noted. Hermione's slim form dashed away from them, running for the castle.

Blaise, looking a little rumpled, knelt next to Draco, his arm pillowing the downy blond head. Blood, redder than rubies, glistened in the grass and on the unicorn's horn, winking mockingly in the sunlight.

The gash was ragged and terrible, from his elbow to his shoulder. Draco's face was pasty and he took long gulps of air, gritting his teeth against the searing pain. Harry's cold touch feathered over his forehead and down his neck.

"So brave, my _Jormungandr_." He said fondly, and pressed down on a specific point, like he had done to Blaise last year. Draco passed out.

"Harveste, can you - the blood -" Blaise clutched his friend tighter. He was barely holding it together himself, and his tone was pleading.

"It's not as bad as yours was, darling."

Something glimmered on the torn clothes. Harry narrowed his eyes at it. It looked like unicorn blood.

Someone had put unicorn blood on Draco. Unicorns hated nothing more than the smell of the death of one of their kind.

Harry looked thoughtfully at the gash for a moment, then bent own over Draco's neck. He was losing a lot of blood, and he would have to lose a little bit more. With a last gentle caress over the torn skin, he bit into the soft flesh, his dark hair masking his motions.

The blood was warm and thick, but he couldn't think about that now. He focused the taste of it, the tingle and throb, and his Power flowed through his hand. It wasn't normally used for healing, but it could and it would be now. And it would be fast because he was the one doing it, and when he was done, he would find whoever had done this. And he would bring along Wednesday.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Madame Pomfrey had been impressed at how neatly the wound had been put together. There hadn't even been a scar, just nothing more than a silvery line that marked where the unicorn had pierced him. It was a little sore, Draco reported as he clenched his fist to prove that he still had motor function, and a dose of Blood-Replenishing Potion later, he was walking out of the infirmary. Hermione had cannoned into him, sobbing hysterically. Draco met Blaise's eyes over his and mouthed _Girls_. Blaise just shrugged and bumped their shoulders together before they all went into the Great Hall for dinner. Harry did not join them.

He had other plans.

He had excused himself from the infirmary earlier after answering the Healer's questions. One look had Wednesday following him in the shadows that afternoon. He had smelled the unicorn blood on a few Slytherin uniforms, and he had pointed them out quietly. Wednesday had smiled.

Now he walked into the third floor girls' bathroom and hissed his way into the Chamber of Secrets. There would be no need for Silencing spells down here. It smelled a bit like Grandmama's kitchen now, but with less entrails and more snake, and just one death. So far.

It wasn't gloomy anymore. They liked to work in the light, so the victims could see _exactly_ what was happening to them.

Wednesday was standing in one corner, the firelight making her gruesome grin even more demonic, adding the finishing touches to a potion. She had done as he had asked, and now they were nearly ready. Skele-Gro, Blood-Replenisher, Skin-Back, Forgetfulness and Confusion; all healing potions., all in plentiful quantity.

Attached to the too-high ceiling were ropes which he had hooked on himself, regardless of height, and dangling from each one was a Slytherin. Three ropes for three playthings. The thick, hairy rope was tight around their ankles, their hands bound, and they swung like sides of beef in a butcher shop, hair brushing against the hewn stone.

Bodro Derrick. Marcus Flint. Daphne Greengrass.

"You have been very stupid."

Daphne jerked at the sound of his voice. "Addams, you son of a whore! Let us go!"

He was beside her in a moment, her head in his hands, twisting experimentally. "You are in no position to demand anything, little toy."

"Don't fuck around! We're students, you can't hurt us!"

"I beg to differ. Have you never wondered what happened to Vincent Crabbe?"

Boro spoke for the first time. For such a big person, his voice quavered most enchantingly. "We-we thought he'd moved to Durmstrang."

"You are mistaken. He has moved much farther than that."

"Let us go!" Daphne began to wiggle furiously, trying to get her hands free. He could feel the veins in her head start to throb in agitation and her voice was tainted with fear. "_Let us go!_"

Wednesday moved with clinical precision. She slashed at their wrists, then their ankles, then made tiny incisions along their jugulars. She knew exactly where the veins were, and the blood flowed, sluggishly at first, then in a steady _drip_ _drip_ _drip_ into the bowls she had placed under their heads.

"You are stupid people with stupid grudges, but even the blood of the stupid can be used for the better. You will not die yet, I am so sorry to say, and you will not remember, but tonight, I will make sure you wish you were dead. And if you hurt my friends again, why, I can just do this over and over and over, until your minds break down and you are left as mere worthless shells, dribbling your spit down your chin, pissing yourselves and useless to anyone except the executioner. And I _will_ be that executioner."

Their screams were better than the song of the violin, better than any orchestra, better than a master like Brahms or Mozart could ever think of composing, and they were played with expertise, with relish, and their laughter was that of the werewolf to the moon when it shone over the mountains. But there was no moon here, no mountains, and no werewolf. There would be no witnesses.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry licked his lips as he tucked his thermos back into his pocket. They had gotten a whole two weeks' worth of blood in the end. A Fountain of Youth indeed.

They were sitting at the edge of the dock in the early morning light, legs dangling in the freezing water as they watched Viktor doing his daily swim. Cousin What sat beside them, fastidiously keeping every strand of hair out of the lake. The whole Family knew that the Cousins hated getting wet. They took thirty seconds to take a bath and at least three hours to get out of the bad mood.

"Harry?"

He tilted his head. Hermione was looking at him, uncharacteristically shy and biting her thumb. "Yes, darling?"

"What does…uh…what does 'filia' mean?"

He blinked.

"And 'jormungandr' while you're at it." Draco butted in. He was leaning against Blaise's back, curling and uncurling his arm to exercise the torn muscles. That word, the look in the hard green eyes and the way Blaise had held him were the only things he had remembered after getting gored by the unicorn.

"_Jormungandr_ is the venomous Midgard Serpent of old Norse mythology who will cause the end of the world," Harry explained with a smile, reaching out to caress the flexing limb and let a little of his Power tingle through. "And _fylgja_, I think you mean, Hermione, is an omen of death."

Hermione started to splutter. Blaise bit his fist to muffle his chuckles.

"But when they appear in the form of women, they're like guardian spirits." Harry elaborated, turning to poke her forehead teasingly.

"Well… well…"

Wednesday snorted as she tipped something into the water. It was a ghastly white color and it glooped most disturbingly. "You and your pet names, Harry."

Golden hair shone like needles in the frosty light, causing Wednesday to jump into the water to avoid getting run through. Cousin What buzzed in annoyance. A vial emerged from the tawny depths, and a few strands curled around its base and emptied it into the water where it started to smoke.

Viktor started to thrash around in the distance, swearing in indistinct Bulgarian.

"_Bzbzbz-bzzzz-bz!_"

_Senbon_ slashed through the water like mini-torpedoes and Viktor bobbed up again, followed by Wednesday.

"I was just having a little fun!" She yelled, waving a fistful of _senbon_ at them.

"Come up here then. I'm sure Cousin What has a little _fun_ planned for you."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry had caught Rita Skeeter in her illegal Animagus form. It seemed she hadn't learned her lesson from their last encounter, sniffing around as she was for another nauseatingly twisted piece that she could publish in that rag of a newspaper. Unfortunately for her, she would never get a chance to learn it now.

He bit deep into her neck, the Power surrounding them funneling her screams right back at her. Flesh and muscle gave way to his sharp teeth and he drank gluttonously. It had grated against every sense he had, leaving those three idiots alive, but it had been necessary. As much as he had wanted to give Draco proof of what he had done for the sake of their friendship, he couldn't, because they had been right. People _would_ notice three students disappearing, and no matter how good he was at covering his tracks, the Tournament was under enough scrutiny as it was. He would just have to take his meals the regular way, in the dark and by surprise.

No one would miss Rita Skeeter. She was a gossip, and a talentless writer who had no right to string even two words together. He whispered those things and many more into her mind, and she wailed louder and louder, pleading, begging sweetly until she ran out of breath, until her heart stopped beating, and she grew cold in his hands.

A snap of the fingers had her corpse burning in hungry white-hot flames, and the shadows flowed from him and around her, shielding her from sight. He dabbed conscientiously at his lips with a napkin. Another snap and the Power blew the greasy ashes out of the window, never to be seen again. Too easy.

"Mister Addams!"

He turned around with a raised eyebrow, pushing the stained napkin into his pocket. "Yes?"

Professor Snape descended upon him like a ferocious bat, Professor Moody stumping along behind him. "You are wandering about after curfew!" The greasy-haired man said, the expression on his sallow face very nearly happy. He looked like he'd been wanting to say this for _years. _"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

Harry stifled a chuckle. "I think you'll find that I'm in Slytherin, Professor, your House. Remember?"

Snape looked like he wanted to choke on his own tongue.

"What are you doing at this time of night?" Professor Moody said. His strange eye moved about, going left to right, backwards and upwards, so rapidly and so at odds with his other eye that it could make anyone watching a little sick. He would find nothing though, Harry was sure of that.

"I'm trying to find my snake, sir. I'm afraid she's gotten away from me at the moment."

"Students are not allowed to keep snakes, Mister Addams." Professor Snape tried again.

A black shape slithered out of the shadows behind him, the head raised proudly at least two feet of the ground. It snapped at the Professors' feet and, as they jumped out of the way, climbed up Harry's leg and appeared coiled around his shoulders. It hissed threateningly at them.

"Black Mamba venom is a key ingredient in certain American potions that cater to the betterment of sexually-transmitted diseases." Harry smiled genially. "I'm _so_ sorry to hear about your syphilis, Professor, and so soon after the gonorrhea. I'm sure Deidre would love to be of some assistance."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

An Addams power was directed through their body. They were trained in it from birth, memorizing the pathways and channels. It was one reason why they were so well-versed in acupressure points, the other reason that it was just fun knowing exactly where to press to bring a tougher-than-thou behemoth crying to his knees. Addams weren't in the habit of using external items, so the magic that came true was often uncontrolled. It was more exciting that way, Harry thought.

He flicked his wand and Draco went flying. Fortunately, Professor Flitwick had realized how powerful a Harveste with a wand was and had padded the room like an over-zealous mental hospital. Draco picked himself up with the light of vengeance blazing in his eyes.

"You're supposed to Banish the cushions." Blaise said, not minding in the least. He stuck his tongue out playfully at Draco.

"Don't tease him, darling."

Blaise ducked the Slashing Hex, then he swished his wand in a new way. "_Erecto_." He said gleefully.

Draco blinked. Then he looked down.

"_Blaise!_"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Draco had stopped trying to kill him in time for the Second Task. He sat sullenly on the bench, nursing a split lip. Blaise sat next to him, sporting a black eye and a very Addams smile. Hermione clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"You guys are so -"

"Dense? Dim-witted?" Wednesday supplied, her eyes on the Lake. "Brainless?"

Cedric, Viktor and Harry had gone into the water forty minutes ago. Cedric had used a Bubble-head charm, and Viktor had turned into some sort of half-shark. Harry had brought a snorkel.

Fleur had also tried to use the Bubble-head charm, but after just twenty minutes, she had swum back to shore, sobbing like a romantic book's heroine, blood streaming from various cuts on her legs and arms. All of them had rolled their eyes derisively. Then Wednesday had disappeared.

And re-appeared a few minutes later in the wake of a high-pitched shriek, clutching a handful of silvery hair that still had bits of bloody scalp attached to it.

"Grindylows," she had said by way of explanation. As if they would believe her.

The crowd ooh'd and aah'd as Cedric crawled out of the murky water, hauling his father by the collar. Blaise had wondered whether Wednesday would have been the one 'that he would sorely miss', but he was gratified to see that the Hufflepuff boy wasn't as vapid as all that. Cedric stood with effort, panting from exertion, and as soon as the Healers had gathered around his father, he went back to the Lake edge and he dragged out a few small, mangled Grindylow bodies. The cuts were jagged, as if done hesitantly at first, but then growing more and more sure. The last one was just a head.

Wednesday looked suitably impressed.

There was still no sign of Harry or Viktor. Hermione started to tear up her program with her teeth.

Fifty minutes since they had gone in, and still they hadn't emerged. Draco bit his lip, eyes narrowed, then turned to Wednesday. "He _does_ know how to swim, doesn't he?"

"Not at all. Why?"

Then, just as Blaise patted Hermione's back comfortingly, the Lake began to froth and bubble, as if the fires of damnation were under it. There was a dominant smell of rotting fish and sun-dried beached whale.

A tremendous tentacle slapped down on the sand to a chorus of screams and stampeding feet. Another thudded down beside it, moving obscenely in the afternoon light. A grotesquely horrifying sound tore through the air, like what had been in the Golden Egg, but much, much worse because this was live and it was happening right in front of them. Blaise clutched Draco's arm, enmity forgotten, Hermione sandwiched protectively between their bodies. Harry would never forgive them if they didn't defend each other. The water continued to boil wildly until four more tentacles shot up like a ballistic cannon, with four figures sitting on the knobbed coils like they had just been on a walk around the beach.

Viktor Krum, Cousin What, Harry and...

"Mother!"

The four of them stood up, ready to welcome the Champions, but just then, as the Giant Squid slid back into its home, its cry was replaced by that of an angry hornets' nest, fierce and furious buzzing that had them clapping their hands tightly over their ears.

Cousin What was Pissed Off.

Viktor was trying to calm his 'itfriend' down with a few drying charms, and they caught a few mentions of "_Valravn_", a pet name between the two which was explained by Harry to be something along the lines of a supernatural being who ate children's hearts and dead bodies. They had never really understood why, because both Victor and Cousin What had been the most amiable Addams and Addams-to-be that they had ever seen, but today they got their answer.

Golden hair spread out like an avenging star fish, revealing even more hair under it. The buzz sharpened, reaching peaks that could bust eardrums, and Cousin What moved forward. If there had been eyes under that hostile coiffure, it would have been glaringly hammered on the Judging Box and one Professor Karkaroff. There was movement, quicker than lightning in a field, more nimble than Wednesday when she wanted a little time to play, and suddenly steel-like tresses were lashed around the scrawny neck of the Durmstrang Headmaster.

Stunning and Cutting Hexes were absorbed with barely a twitch. Viktor's soothing Bulgarian was sounding more and more resigned. It look like Durmstrang would have to find another principal.

"Cousin What, your manners."

Morticia Addams was the _true_ vampire bride. There was no cinematic gore-fest in the world worthy of her. She slinked up the path that had been cleared by Cousin What, a ghoulishly thin figure swathed in black lace, gracefully eerie smile turned on to the choking Karkaroff. She ran a bone-white hand over Cousin What's head and the fury subsided, though the hold on the Headmaster's throat was slow to unwind.

"You must forgive our Cousin. They have never liked water."

"Thank you, thank you," The man gasped pathetically. He put his hand in Morticia's extended one, then turned a pitiful glare on his subordinates. "You-you are expelled. _Immediately_."

There was a _crunch_. He had forgotten he was still shaking hands with the Addams matriarch.

Harry turned back to his friends with a smile.

"What took you so long?" Wednesday huffed. "And you didn't bring anything with you. I mean, even _Cedric_ got me some Grindylows."

"How sweet of him. I suppose you won't be having dinner with me tonight then?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "She always eats with us, Harry. What're you talking about?"

"I will not be eating in the Great Hall tonight. Mother and I will be having merfolk. On a stick."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

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End of Part 4

In my defense, darlings, Luna wasn't mentioned until the fifth book. Ah, but when she is….you all just better get ready for some MADNESS! To Shadowface about my Chamber of Secrets, Tom Marvolo was the son of Merope Gaunt, but his father, Tom Senior, was the son of Mary Riddle. Harveste was mentioning his Muggle heritage to mess with him :)


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Harveste Addams and the Goblet of Fire

Crossover: Harry Potter and the Addams Family

Summary: Let's have a little FUN this year, shall we?

Warning: Addams Family Sadism and Cross-dressing, Spoilers -do I have to write that?-

A little advice from the start! Open that darling review page now, coz this is a loooooong chapter, and you may have a lot to yell at me for. And before you say it, yes I know, I changed Blaise again! Blue eyes instead of brown. I just had this pretty picture, and it's fixed now, I promise! Blue-eyed Blaise!

Kamerron, I've never been complimented on my spelling and grammar before, so yay, thank you. But you know I've gotta do a Hermione now right? I can't stand to have an error somewhere in my over fifty thousand word whatever-you-call-it. You guys are just all so precious, I can't stop gushing. My _brother_ can't stop me gushing, and he's almost at the point where he'll take a hammer to the piano just to shut me up.

Gods, I wish I had Benny Davis' voice… Axis of Awesome is called that for a _reason_!

I just found a weird anomaly in the canon Goblet of Fire. When the niffler pounced on Pansy, it was after her watch. Her _watch_. What's a pureblood doing with a watch?

24 hours awake so far! Sleep is for the weak, man~! I'm staying awake on a diet of cigarettes, water and all the Naono Bohra I missed during my empty-hearted yaoiless phase!

Edit: A thousand thanks to Eryn for catching my n00b mistake!

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.

…

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Mother had taken care of Cousin What's expulsion in a typically winsome Addams way. Professor Karkaroff had been admitted into the infirmary with eighteen crushed bones, and his hand had looked like a loose bag of jelly. Wednesday had hugged her and asked with delight when she would be able to do that too.

They were sitting around the lake, a crackling bonfire between them. Well, except for Draco and Hermione, who said that the smell of roasted Grindylow was worse than the Great Squid. Blaise, for a reason unknown to anyone including himself, had tried a bite.

"How is your schoolwork, my viper?" Morticia asked pleasantly over the sounds of retching. She was perched on a rock, looking deathly glamorous even with the wholesome background of Forest and skyline rising behind her.

"Quite well, Mother, I'm sorry to say. I just seem to pass, whatever I do."

"Pugsley's worse off." Wednesday reported as she gnawed at her skewer. "He's _graduating_."

They all sighed.

"We'll just have to hope he does better in New Orleans. The local priests have ways of dealing with interlopers that would make your Father cry tears of joy. And what of your… friends, my viper?"

Harry looked up curiously at his Mother's new tone. "They're not on the menu."

"Not yet." Wednesday ducked the inevitable _senbon_ and rolled her eyes.

Morticia Addams kept her sighs to herself. She had never had this problem with Fester or Pugsley. Those two were enraptured with explosives and poisons and toxic waste. Harveste and Wednesday, however, were turning out to be more passionate about other things. They probably got it from her side of the family, pioneers to the current generation of Black Widows and Praying Mantises of the world. She could remember her school years still, and the band of suitors that had followed her around. She could also almost remember where she had buried most of the bodies.

Wednesday was still a touch too young to learn that side of the Art, but her deadly viper had three under his wing, all groomed and tended over the years with the same care that she extended to Cleopatra, her African Strangler. It was just another sign that he was growing up, ready to maul his way out of the womb and into an unwary world. She dabbed at her eyes, a little teary with pride.

"Mother, what's wrong? It's not too cooked, is it?" Harry prodded the meat over the fire experimentally. There was a loud _sizzle._

"It's nothing, darling. I shall have a bit of the face, thank you."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

When Blaise had recovered, Mother had entertained them with the _shamisen_. Harveste, who had grown up listening to it, had kindly plugged his friends' ears with beeswax after the first five notes.

Now they were getting ready for bed. Wednesday had been roped into helping Viktor comb out Cousin What, and the result was particularly lively. Harry instinctively distributed his weight, staying in a stable stance as another eruption rocked the dungeons. Draco had no such luck and let out a squawk as he fell over his trunk.

"Are they going to keep this up all night?" Blaise asked as the blond tried to get up, only to tumble over again. He was surprised none of the Professors had come in yet, but then again, they had seen what had happened to Karkaroff.

"Most likely."

Draco gave up and decided to belly-crawl to the bathroom.

Harry watched him go with a chuckle, then turned inquisitively as Blaise touched his arm. "Darling?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as the tips of his friend's ears started to redden.

"Er… ah, nothing."

"Pansy half-wit." Draco snorted, deciding to crawl back in again, uncaring of the fact that his Egyptian cotton pajamas were being used like a floor mop. "He wants to know what pet name you've thought up for him. He wouldn't shut up about it all ni – _oww_, _godsdammit_, _you_ _sadistic_ _sonofa_ -"

Harry climbed into bed and arranged the covers around his lap, watching indulgently as another brawl broke out in front of him, and each move was as dirty as Uncle Fester's socks, which was saying something. It seemed the feud was on again. How exquisitely entertaining. One had to wonder what they were fighting about though.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He was a little glad he had erased Daphne Greengrass' memory. She was more fun that way. With her still upright and walking around, Hermione had a chance to exercise her kind of justice.

"I'll rip her _lungs_ out."

"Now, now, darling." Harry chuckled, his fan a crimson crescent against his pale skin. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Hermione's hands were fisting spasmodically around Daphne's generously given copy of Witch Weekly like she wished it were a neck instead of just a glossy magazine. It had been opened to the page proudly declaring _Harveste_ _Addams's_ _Secret_ _Love_ _Life_. It was not so much an article as it was a photo album, with a big picture of him with Hermione in his arms during the First Task, Hermione talking to Viktor Krum, Hermione laughing with Cedric Diggory over their Herbology textbook and best of all, Hermione in a Draco-and-Blaise sandwich in the stands during the Second Task.

Draco had taken one look at it and had blushed so brightly he could have glowed in the dark. Blaise had just snorted.

The article had gone on for three paragraphs about his prowess as a Champion, his grades and his looks, then had continued on for two pages about Hermione Granger and how she was an uninhibited girl, ensnaring all the available men in Hogwarts. Daphne Greengrass had been quoted as saying her unattractive schoolmate was either very well-versed in love potions or an incubus. Hermione had seen red for a moment and completely macerated twelve spiders in her mortar and pestle for Potions even though she had just needed one.

"Calm down, Hermione." Blaise said, watching her clenched fists as she ground down her thirteenth spider. "At least Rita Skeeter didn't write it."

Harry smiled to himself and continued to stir. He would be coating the Slytherins' seats with this particular potion later on, and then he would just stand aside and let the diarrhea flow.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Hermione started receiving Howlers and threatening letters the very next day. Harry had appropriated the one with Bubotuber pus and was now happily drinking it instead of pumpkin juice.

Wednesday had been watching his friend with malicious eyes all throughout yesterday, and now, with her umbrella shadowing her face from the detestable sunlight that was beginning to warm the grounds, she made her move. With a grenade.

Harry stepped back with a smile, pulling both Draco and Blaise out of the line of fire. Hermione evaded like she had been born into the Addams family. Her favored weapon, the double-bladed long staff, was back in her dorm room, but he had taught her where to keep daggers, and she used them well, swinging them in a nearly invisible arc that blocked shrapnel. Not all of it, of course, but a little more practice would iron out that deficiency. Wednesday stood in the clearing dust, her pallid face expressionless.

"Wednesday -"

"Did you make out with Cedric?"

Hermione blinked in bemusement, not bothering to wipe the blood that was oozing down her neck, and looked to Harry. He shrugged. "What - are you talking about that article?"

"Answer me." His sister said, still in that even tone, toying with the pin on another grenade.

"Are you _jealous_?" Hermione asked incredulously, her mouth dropping open in shock.

Draco winced. "Ooo, wrong answer."

"Ah well." Harry said over Hermione's yelp and the machine gun–rapid explosions that followed her. "She'll get tired after a while."

Blaise raised an eyebrow as Wednesday hared after Hermione, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. "Which one are you talking about?"

"Hermione's clever. She can handle it."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry had been right. His friend had managed to convince Wednesday that she had had nothing to do with Cedric, though exactly how she had explained while evading certain death remained a mystery. The Hufflepuff boy hadn't had a chance to help, what with the Weasley twins pulling out all the stops in their jealous realization that his sister might just prefer the older boy. The last time Harry had seen him, he had been buck naked with a large furry tail attached to his bottom, running like a wild fox with the hunting hounds behind him. The Weasleys had been bearing rifles and no one had been brave enough to ask whether they were fake or real.

Draco had started laughing until Blaise had popped the exact same candy into his mouth. There had been spirited attempts at strangulation, and hair _everywhere_.

Hermione snickered into his shoulder as they started up again.

"Give me back my wand, you poncy git!"

"Try and take it, ferret-brains."

"Alrigh' you two, that'll be enough o' tha'." Hagrid said amiably as he trooped up to them with a big wooden box in his arms. "We''ll be handlin' nifflers today."

Harry raised an eyebrow as Hermione squealed most un-enchantingly. The contents of the box were not more Skrewts, as he had hoped. Rather, there was a group of cuddly-looking, badger-like creatures, black and downy, just like the huge-eyed stuffed toys in Pubert's room, except they weren't fanged, poisonous and mangy beyond the normal bounds of sanitation. If he put one in the box, he was sure the docile nifflers would eat each other trying to get out.

"-find 'em down mines and such. They like sparkly stuff, there you go -"

A girl squeaked as a niffler pawed at the rings on her hand. Harry looked at the furry thing speculatively, wondering whether it would taste better as a barbecue or a roast. He didn't see Blaise, devilish gleam alive in his blue eyes, reach in to the box. He heard Draco scream though.

Ah, young love. Better than a kick in the nuts.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The twins were found that evening in the Great Hall, naked as the day they were born and painted in the Hufflepuff colors with carrots wedged in their mouths.

"You know, if you wanted to get my sister's attention, you might have done better if you'd put those carrots somewhere else."

Cedric had gotten into detention for his little stunt, though McGonagall didn't look like she had minded too much. Harry walked next to him, Snape having reached the end of his tether after being afflicted with crabs and sentencing his smiling student to detention for breathing loudly. They were headed to Hagrid's hut for a bout of scrubbing and entrails. Harry didn't mind either as he'd had enough practice with Grandmama and her kitchen.

"I thought it might be overkill."

"No such thing."

"Um…" Cedric looked a little uncomfortable, and he rubbed his cheek self-consciously. "Is this the part where you give me the Big Brother speech? Should I be breaking out the flame retardants and stuff?"

Harry smiled pleasantly. "Wednesday is more than capable of taking care of herself. You should know that."

Cedric chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders as he rubbed scar on the back of his neck where a bread knife had gotten too close. Wednesday had taken her own sweet time warming up to him, but he felt that it was worth it. There was just something about her, and Harry too, but she was just a touch more homicidal. It was cute, in a disturbing way. And besides…

"So, how are you and Hermione?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you guys are so…I mean, you can't have much free time with Draco and Blaise hanging around…"

Something rustled in the underbrush, and Harry whirled towards it. Cedric would have sworn his eyes had taken on a sort of gleam, even though there was no moon in the sky. Then he stopped thinking about it when a cloaked figure staggered out from between the trees. It looked decidedly unsteady and Cedric automatically moved to help whoever it was, but Harry's sudden grip on his arm was like a steel band.

His voice was as gentle as ever though, and he was still smiling. "Why don't you go and get Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, hmm? Tell them it's Mister Crouch from the Ministry. I'll stay here and look after him."

"How can you-"

Harry tapped his nose and smiled again. Cedric blinked, then nodded slowly.

The brunette watched him leave and heard the groan of the great wooden doors as they were opened. It would take him fifteen minutes to get to the infirmary and approximately ten more to find Dumbledore. All in all, without convenient Apparition, it would take everybody at least half an hour to get back here. Plenty of time to do what he had to, what he _wanted_ to.

"Tell me, Mister Crouch," he said conversationally as he knelt down next to the prone, shaking body. "Do you know Sirius Black?"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

His work had been halfway done for him anyway. The man was on the verge of death and he knew it. Bartemius Crouch Senior had looked at him with unseeing eyes and sung like a canary, every single stain on his soul bared to the open air and his lone listener. Harry didn't even have to use his thumbscrews, which had been a bit of a bummer. But he knew now, he knew everything, about the son that hadn't died and the mother that had, a long, dark yarn powered by love and duty. It had been touching, in a twisted way, and Harry knew all about twisted.

From there, he could piece the whole year together and take an educated guess as to who Mad-Eye Moody really was. It didn't take a lot of brain-power to see how the year was going to end. Dear Tom had been popping up like a bad pun ever since his first year. Who was he to stop it? The wizarding world owed him a little challenge.

Dumbledore had come to the rescue too late. Mister Crouch's eyes were already clouding and he closed them, fingers lingering just for a moment on the slowly cooling flesh.

"Mister Addams, what happened here?"

"Mister Crouch has expired, sir. I thought that would have been obvious." Harry said blandly and stood up, dusting off the back of his skirt. Cedric caught his elbow to steady him and he smiled in thanks. The boy really was a gentleman. What a change from the usual axe murderers and raving psychopaths, Weasley twins included, that Wednesday usually preferred to mix with. He turned back to their Headmaster, who was looking at the body, his jovial sparklies dimmed.

"Barty Crouch!" Madam Pomfrey gasped in disbelief, finally catching up. She clutched at the Headmaster's robes. "Albus…"

"Did he say anything, Mister Addams?"

"Something about rules, sir." Harry said, his eyes lost in the curve of his smile. "And then he tried to kill me."

"_What?"_

"You don't have to sound so cheerful about it." Cedric muttered behind him.

"Mister Addams," Dumbledore rumbled, looking out of his depth and suddenly furious. For the first time, Harry could actually believe that the man had defeated Grindelwald. His Power spread out like the wings of a phoenix, a hot wind that beat against his face and the odious smell of cinnamon. "Mister Addams, did you _kill_ Barty Crouch?"

Madam Pomfrey gasped again and even Cedric's arm tightened on his elbow.

Harry continued to smile. "Certainly not, Professor. I wouldn't be so crass as to leave a body lying around. It would implicate me, and that would just be… silly."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

The day continued normally, even though the Third Task would be happening that the evening. Word had gotten around about the death of Barty Crouch on the grounds and the fact that Harveste Addams had been the only witness, resulting in ridiculous gossip and tall tales being bandied around the school. The newest one was that he had killed Barty Crouch by way of Thestrals, a pot of jam, two ironing boards and a tea kettle.

"Idiots." muttered Blaise, looking around darkly.

"They never say what kind of jam, do they?" Harry asked with a smile as another horde of girls passed by them.

"Gooseberry." Hermione supplied thoughtfully. "Or maybe rhubarb. They taste foul enough to kill someone."

"Strawberry." Draco said, tempted to swing his bag at a Ravenclaw's face as she laughed too loudly. "I hate strawberry."

"Man after my own heart!" A jovial voice said from behind them. Harry threw a dagger in its direction before turning around. "Well done, viper!"

"Father?"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Lady Addams, you look more beautiful than ever."

Harry and his friends entered the small classroom to see Dumbledore bowing over Morticia's red-tipped hand. Viktor was standing in a corner with Cousin What, talking with another dark-haired couple in a mix of animated Bulgarian and Bzz. Apparently the whole family could also understand the unintelligible squeaks, as Viktor's father nodded and laughed at something Cousin What said. Cedric was with his family too, as was Fleur, a group of silver-haired beautiful people that had Wednesday smiling and reaching for her pocket.

"You are too kind." Morticia was saying. "Especially since you tethered me to a post and left me underwater."

"You were in no danger, madam, I assure you."

"Oh dear. That's so disappointing." The headmaster blinked in bemusement and she stepped off the dais, leaving him to figure out exactly what she had meant. "My viper, how darling to see you again."

"Hello, Mother." Harry kissed the marble cheek then reached down to pick up his little brother. Something started to bang on his temple.

"Er, Harry, he's kinda got something -"

Harry reached up and pried out an arrow from the chubby fingers. "Pubert, you're supposed to hit with the pointy bit, not the shaft. See, the pointy bit is sharp, right? That's the part you stick in people."

"Hi, Mrs, Addams." Hermione said, tearing her eyes from the darkly distracting scene of her best friend showing his younger sibling how to load a crossbrow. She smiled hesitantly at Morticia and brushed a polite peck over her cheek. It was absolutely freezing, like licking a frosted metal bar. She was getting a bit used to it now though, and it didn't sting as much. "How was your trip?"

"Divinely nauseating. Gomez threw up blood."

"Oh." She was used to _that_ too. "That's nice."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Father had challenged his eleventh set of enchanted armor. It crashed to pieces like the rest, but at least it had lasted ten seconds longer than the rest. They were learning.

Hermione Draco and Blaise had exams, so they had politely said their good-byes and headed off under Professor McGonagall's eagle eyes. That left Harry time to stroll around with his family. They ran into Pugsley on the seventh floor. He was cackling.

"Harry, check this out! Uranium! Loads and loads of it! And arsenic! I think I'm in Hell!"

He peered around the doorway. He hadn't heard of a poison room before. Snape would have gotten his hands on it years ago, and he knew that the surly Professor wasn't above adding a little extra kick to the food of his more unrepentant students. Nothing lethal, he was still a teacher after all, but enough to induce some heartburn and a throbbing migraine. Harry had been on the receiving end of a touch of hemlock quite a few times himself, and it wasn't his fault that Snape didn't know he liked Acromantula venom.

Somebody had been using this room. That or someone had brought all these things here and just left them. Flickering torches shed warm light on things wrought from worn metal, leather and blood-stained wood. There were weapons galore, a few axes and sabers along one wall, with vials and potion bottles on the other. They were filled with some glowing substance that only Pugsley could explain, seeing as he was the only person gushing over them.

"A torture rack! With real iron manacles!" Wednesday clapped her hands with glee, looking like she had just walked into the middle of London and found all her toys laid out before her to use on unsuspecting passers-by. "Harry, you didn't tell me about this!"

"I didn't know about this place."

"Yeah right. I bet you just wanted to keep these things to yourself. Look, they're freshly used."

"Gomez." Morticia said in a light lascivious tone, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Red-hot pokers."

"And leather straps!" Their father's eyes burned with memories. "Tish…"

Harry chuckled and grabbed his brother by the neck and his sister by the hand. "Come on. We should leave them alone for a bit. They've gone two whole hours without kissing and you know what that means."

"Aargh." Wednesday began tugging on her ears as soon as the door shut behind them, the enraptured moans abruptly ending. "Why'd you have to go and say that? Now I want to go and scrub my brains."

"Can I help?"

"Scrub your own brain, Pugsley."

Harry continued to drag them down the corridors. Pugsley, taller than him and pure muscle, actually liked the sensation of skin scraping over stone. He assumed that the floors in Salem were wood, well-sanded and cared for, and therefore not as much fun. "How about a second lunch? I've got a bit of dragon meat left from the First Task."

Pugsley stopped biting at his uranium and looked up curiously. "Wasn't that in November? Shouldn't the meat be all rotted and maggoty by now?"

"Mhmm."

"Cool."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Third Task is about to begin! May I please ask all the champions to follow Mr. Bagman to the stadium!"

Harry stood up and straightened his skirt meticulously. Hermione had tried to persuade him to wear the boys' uniform 'just this once, you can't run in that thing!'. He had patted her head and gently reminded her of all the trainings they had been to when he had worn the exact same long, floor-length skirt. She had been a bundle of nerves all through dinner, adding salt to her tea instead of sugar and drinking it anyway. Draco hadn't eaten; he had just smooshed his green peas around until they resembled pond scum with a dash of tomato sauce. Blaise had been the only one outwardly collected, but now he looked at Harry with blue eyes like burning coals, a silent threat in them. He couldn't resist. They were too cute.

He bent to kiss them like he had in the Potions room, a class that seemed to have happened ages ago. Hermione tasted slightly salty, like the tea she had just drunk, but bitingly sweet at the same time. Draco's lips were chapped and dry from biting at them all the time, as was his habit when he was worried. Blaise's mouth was closed and unyielding, but he had just the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks when Harry drew back to smile at them.

"What the -"

"Harry, why did you -"

"Bloody git -"

"I'll see you later." He said cheerfully as he joined the other Champions. Cedric threw an arm around his neck and Viktor playfully nudged him. "If you're lucky, you'll see me die tonight!"

"What the -"

"Why did he -"

"_Harveste!"_

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He was the last of the Champions to enter the Maze, and the darkness and silence of it enclosed him as soon as he stepped inside. It was cool and spelled against outside interference, so there was no one stopping him from conjuring up a teacup of his new favorite blend: Bubotuber pus and Acromantula venom with a dash of Marcus Flint to round out the flavor. He took a sip and sighed happily. Pure bliss.

Perhaps the Maze _wasn't_ spelled very effectively after all. He could feel eyes following him and a surge of Dark Magic just before Viktor stepped in front of him.

Cousin's What's boyfriend moved like a puppet, limbs jerky and eyes clouded. Harry cocked his head, his saucer in one hand and cup in the other, and waited.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?"

An eyebrow twitched. Viktor knew better than to call him by that name. The Imperius, then. Cousin What was not going to be pleased about this.

_Senbon_ glided like silent death through the dark hedgeway, but whoever was controlling Viktor was well-versed in fighting. 'Whoever' hadn't counted on the Skrewt that had scuttled up behind his puppet though. Skrewts didn't have to make noise if they didn't want to, and held back their fireballs in favor of a quick and venom-filled sting.

"That's enough, Bellpepper. I'd like Cousin What to leave a little bit of me alive too."

He studied the prone body for a minute then waved a hand over the puncture. It took a lot of concentration, molding just a little bit of Power into swimming through the bloodstream and pulling out the foreign toxins, but he managed it. A drop of purple gravitated toward his palm, joined by another then another until he had a peach-sized ball of liquid in his hand. He dropped it into his cup. It was getting a little empty anyway.

"Bellpepper," he said, turning to the Skrewt. It clicked at him, and buzzed when he rubbed the hard black shell between the pincers. "Watch over him until the teachers come, please."

He pulled out his wand, though he wasn't used to it. Pure Power would laugh at the thought of making mere sparks to signal that someone was down, but he had to keep Cousin What in mind. A thin red stream made its way out of the way of the wooden tip, moving higher and higher, and he twitched his wand this way and that until it spelled out very clearly: _Viktor_ _Krum_. If anything, his Cousin would throttle another teacher to make sure they came as fast as they could.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He had encountered an Imperius'ed Fleur too, shortly afterward. He had no Skrewt to back him up, but there had been a convenient patch of Reverse-Space magic that had done the trick, and a _senbon_ to the neck had taken care of her movements. Just to be sure though, he dabbed a little Bubotuber pus on her lips, which had swelled up nicely and had begun to form boils. But Wednesday wouldn't forgive him if he killed one of her toys after he had warned her off his, so with a heartfelt sigh at being deprived of one more prey, he sent up the message. _Fleur_ _Delacour_ beamed brightly in the starry sky.

The only ones left now were him and Cedric, and _of course_ he couldn't kill Cedric. Harry sighed as he refilled his cup, but this time added a generous amount of Firewhisky and a raw egg. Maybe his sister was right, and he was getting soft. He certainly wasn't delighting in the normal torture and maiming that had been his family's bread and butter for years. He couldn't even remember the last time he had dabbled his fingers in blood for no reason at all or had a plate of hot innards without thinking of the calories. He could almost hang the blame on his friends. They were… melting him in some way, with their hugs and tears and the way they were so loyal and faithful and fun to mess with. But to be fair, he was molding them too, and now, to other people, they would almost be unrecognizable from the soft, unsure first years they had been.

Hermione was a dream, like a little Wednesday who didn't try to kill him at every turn, but that was alright. She was a dab hand at the long staff now and he would be willing to bet that she could hold her own against Pugsley. Of course, she still liked cute things and worried too much, but those were things he could easily overlook. Blaise had opened up to his more sadistic side as well, though he only seemed to let it out on Draco, as if the blond was the only one who could handle it. Hermione he treated like a piece of fragile glass, but he was wise enough not to overlook her during training. He was stiff and unsure still, but his conviction was strong, like a gladiator of old and Harry knew he would fight to the death for any of them. Draco, on the other hand, was like his fan, all sharp edges but still pliable on the inside. He was always the first one with an attack, foolhardy at times and easily distracted like a cat, but no matter how many times he was beaten down, he would keep on rising, keep on going.

Perhaps it was time to stop babying them. He didn't owe anyone anything, but if he did, if life was a series of choices… He had chosen the Addams, over and over again, and there was no reason he couldn't choose his friends as well. They were a part of him now, he had tasted their blood, their flesh, and protected them as best as he could with the damnable Light carving and carving at him and Tom being an utter brat about the prophecy.

All this thinking was starting to annoy him, and it was just his fortune that a Boggart crossed his path at that exact moment. He was bombarded with the scent of freshly baked bread and iced cookies, the sound of happy children, and the sight of a sapphire ocean lapping playfully at a golden beach. There were colorful umbrellas and sunshine.

"_Riddikulus_, you _awful_ creature."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He rolled his eyes and slashed his hand down sharply, sending his china saucer deep into the sphinx's skull. Honestly, who asked riddles during a life and death situation, with someone casting Imperius everywhere and bloody Boggarts running amuck? Was she trying to be funny?

He pushed her furry carcass to the side, burning it with a snap of his fingers and continuing on. One more turn had him emerging from the Maze and coming face-to-face with Wednesday's beau- well, one of three at least. They stood across from each other on either end of a small grassy field, and in between them was the Tri-Wizard Cup.

"Hey, Harveste." Cedric smiled warily, crossing towards him. They met halfway, a hands-breadth or two away from the Cup. One of his arms had a long scratch on it, not too serious, and one side of his face was scratched.

"What did you run in to?"

"Doxies and Cornish Pixies." The Hufflepuff stood quietly as Harry critiqued him. "What're you drinking?"

"Tea." The brunette said shortly. The green eyes shifted to look behind Cedric's shoulder and an eyebrow playfully cocked as he gestured with his cup. "There's an Acromantula behind you."

"Wha – _Bloody hell!_"

Harry stepped out of the way as the advancing monster spider clacked its pincers angrily, quickly judging where the blind spot was and staying in it. He raised his teacup to his lips, watching blandly as Cedric stumbled backwards.

"Harveste, a little help -"

"Think of it as a character-building exercise. You haven't had enough, I think."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cedric yelled as he dodged one hairy leg and rolled under another. "I'm Hufflepuff's Quidditch Captain! I exercise – _aargh _- all the time!"

"That's a good start." Harry moved again, always keeping behind the spider. He frowned down at his empty cup and filled it again. Two raw eggs this time. He would need the energy. "Watch out for the fangs."

"That's _real_ helpful!"

Harry settled down on the grass, his eyes following every dash and duck languidly. Cedric would have to learn how to do this on his own and a lot more, if he was ever going to have the slightest chance at staying alive with Wednesday. He would have to learn how to re-breathe air for one, since his dear sister loved burying people who still had functional capacities, and if he remembered some of the species of spiders that she kept, then building up a tolerance to lethal bites was a must. Acromantula venom would be a fine start. It was for his own good, and it certainly wasn't because Harry was having fun watching him run for his life.

Cedric rolled under another leg and just before the spider turned, he jumped, grabbing onto the hairy leg and shimmying upwards like a chimney-sweep, hanging on to the bristles tenaciously until he was riding the bloated abdomen. There was a red stream of light, the Slashing Hex, and the spider's head rolled away, pincers still clicking madly in death. The body followed afterward, buckling joint by joint until it fell to the ground with a thud. Cedric rolled off onto the grass, giving the leg one last half-hearted kick as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"Well done. Very clean."

"Thank you… I think." Cedric panted, still trying to catch his breath as he stared up at the stars. "That was more sadistic than normal, even for you, Harveste."

"I am always more sadistic than normal."

Harry stood up and made his way to the Acromantula's head. Its eyes were glazed over, in the manner of Mister Crouch's and all corpses everywhere, and he had no trouble sawing off one fang and putting it in his pocket for later. Then he turned to the final prize with a smile.

The golden cup glowed, illuminated by an unknown source. He could smell Professor Moody's scent all over it and magic that had nothing to do with the sparkling light.

"My sister would be very angry if she couldn't kill you herself."

"What kind of – _Harveste_!"

But Cedric was too late. A rainbow burst around him, and with a _crack_, Harry was gone.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He blinked the stars out of his eyes as he stood up. He was in a graveyard, he could tell from the smell. If it weren't for the lack of stagnant water and broiled incontinence that always superseded Grandmama's cooking, he would have said he was back in America. The atmosphere was certainly gloomy enough, bordering on eerie, and there was a black, broken-down house on top of a hill. The overall aura was of Tom's, full of Dark Magic, a tinge of Blood Magic and snakes. Harry leaned against a tombstone overgrown with moss and brambles, intent on finishing his drink before Riddle's welcoming committee arrived.

He didn't get a chance to. Sighing, he Banished his cup and its contents as he heard voices coming toward him. Then, brushing off the front of his school shirt, he took two steps forward and collapsed theatrically. A thought entered his mind that he was channeling Draco, and he smiled into the ground.

"There he is, I knew I felt – is that a girl?"

Face pressed against the grass as he feigned unconsciousness, Harry rolled his eyes. Just because he wore a skirt and had long hair, _really_.

"Stupid, it _has_ to be Potter. He was in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and our spy has more than taken care of everything. Let's get him to the gravestone quick before the Master arrives."

He let his head loll forward as they dragged him by the arms, his cloak and skirt and shoes gathering dew. He was used to playing dead, and quite good at it, though not as good as his Mother, who could fool a mortician. It was only natural for a child of the Addams family. The two who held him only went a little way, and then he was manhandled into place and bound to what felt like another gravestone, but much bigger. Most likely an angel or a family crest. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even as another figure approached, then a familiar voice slithered through the air.

"Hurry!"

There was another sound, the crackling of flames, and the scent of snake grew stronger in the air as something bumped against his shoes. Python, he guessed, or anaconda. Certainly a type of constrictor at that length, nothing like his quick deadly Black Mamba.

"Now…"

There was a splash, and then a steady voice, steady like an iron bar, full of pride and loyalty. There was a _crack_ somewhere beneath him and the smell of dust, but Harry didn't move, interested as he was.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

Blood Magic, was it? He could taste it humming through the air, very faint, as if it wasn't used to being called by this voice in this place. That meant this was probably a new spell, or Blood Magic hadn't been practiced here before.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your Master."

Whoever was speaking was strong and steady, and with Blood Magic, that was very important. A weak person would not be able to cast it correctly. He supposed Tom had him to thank for that. If he hadn't caught Peter Pettigrew, then more than likely it would have been him who would be chanting, and dear Tom wouldn't have been at full strength. He heard another splash, and the sweet scent of blood invaded his nose.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

He heard steps coming toward him again, and then a sharp pain on the inside of his arm. Dear, dear, what a disappointment. Wednesday would have cut at softer, more sensitive flesh, nearer the armpit for example, where it would have left a lasting, more annoying sting, instead of just over his forearm.

There was a sudden burst of white light, so bright that he fought not to shield his eyes from it, fought not to squint. He succeeded. He had Pugsley to thank for that.

A fine mist of water droplets smattered against his face, and a cold breeze picked up, whirling around and around. The feeling of Blood Magic grew, drumming against his temples and pressing down on his chest, and then it left just as suddenly, sucked into a vacuum that was just in front of him and a snake-like voice hissed into the night.

"Robe me."

Lord Voldemort had risen again. What _fun_.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry could barely stop himself from cackling. That was Grandmama's forte, he told himself sternly, and he had no right to cackle. Yet.

"My Lord, you promised -"

"Hold out your arm," The snaked voice hissed lazily. "The other arm, Rosier."

Rosier was the faithful one then. Evan Rosier, if he remembered correctly, expert at Cruciatus, Imperius and a few other Dark curses, declared dead fourteen years ago. Harry wondered whether to kill him now or save him for later.

"It is back, and they shall have noticed. And now, we shall know…"

Tom's voice was breathy, as if he wasn't used to having a mouth and lungs that could actually hold air. His voice was high and cruel and somehow satisfied. He was sounded like the sort of person people would run screaming from at first sight. He was professionally creepy. Harry liked that in a man.

More steps, and a cloak slithering on the ground, then the smell of… soap and dust. Evil had never smelled so disconcerting. A long, warm hand touched his face, very long, double jointed even, and hotter than a boiling cauldron.

"Wake up, Potter. Time for you to be scared."

"Not likely." Harry finally said, opening his eyes to meet ruby-red ones. He had been right about the professionally creepy part. The man's face was stretched over his bones, as pallid as it had been the first year he had seen it, and a skull all his own gleamed like a billiard ball in the light of the cauldron fire. He had no nose, just slits like a snake, and his chin and cheekbones were as sharp as razorblades. "You look well after fourteen years of non-existence."

The man had no outer eyelids either, just inner ones that went from one corner of his eyes to the other then back again. He was silent.

"Have you nothing to say to me after all these years? I would think you had a speech or something prepared for this eventuality."

Tom's eyes narrowed at him in that peculiar way. "I do not need to speak to you, _Potter_. You have fulfilled your purpose."

The flap and swish of cloaks filled the air, and the scent that he had familiarized himself with intimately at the Quidditch World Cup returned. Death Eaters, and more than there had been at that silly game.

"Addams, if you please." Harry said with a smile that had the Dark Lord looking a bit more discomfited. "Harveste Addams, and I'll thank you to use it, unless you want me to use _your_ real name."

The slap was hard but expected. Still, knowing it was going to come didn't soften the blow. He tasted blood from a cut on the inside of his cheek.

"You have _no_ _idea_ who I am, little boy, little _Potter._"

"Have I touched a nerve? We _are_ sensitive when we've just woken up, hmm?"

Tom glared at his smiling face and struck him again, harder, on the other cheek. Then, with a flap of his robe, he went to meet his pets. Rosier shot him a venomous look, the blood from his severed arm still dripping own his robe, and followed his Master, with the other two in his wake.

That sibilant voice started up again, first triumphant, then chastising, but always sadistic. Harry ignored it in favor of experimentally tugging at his bonds. They were tight, as expected, with no give. His siblings couldn't have done a better job. He looked up to the sky, wondering what they were doing now. Was Pugsley playing with his uranium, or had he already built a bomb that could level Scotland? Was Wednesday exacting her pound of flesh from Fleur or was she strapping Cedric to the Iron Maiden? And what of Cousin What and Viktor? What were they doing now? Hermione had brought up an interesting question a while ago, and now, as he waited for dear Tom to stop Crucio-ing his Death Eaters, he was left to ponder it.

He had no illusions as to what his friends were doing at this moment. They would be frantic; Hermione physically, Blaise silently, and Draco madly. They were easy to predict, his darling friends. He smiled to himself.

So, back to that all-important question: How _did_ Cousin What and Viktor have sex?

It…well, it would probably have something to do with curling, or maybe crimping and fluffing…definitely some tugging involved… and hair cream, Cousin What got very buzzy at the sight of hair cream…

"Yes, Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

Harry lowered his chin to see Tom slithering his way back, his pack of Death Eaters following him like dogs on a leash. He took a deep breath, tasting the scents on the wind that blew toward him. Rosier, tinged with blood, three smells that were slightly familiar… ah, yes, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott Seniors, and a few scents from…from the Ministry, yes… very interesting that… and… Malfoy… Well, well.

Tom _did_ have a speech. Harry listened avidly to a story about blood, his favorite topic, and his Muggleborn, biological mother, who had apparently given him a sacrifice.

"How soppy."

The voices stopped as quickly as water from a closed tap. Tom advanced towards him threateningly, his robe flaring and his eyes red, wide and mad. "_What_ did you say?"

"I said it was soppy, which is true. Sacrifice of love? Only writers of romance novels believe that drivel." Harry pointed out.

"_Is that so?_" Tom hissed, the end of his wand twitching as if he were barely hanging on to his proud visage by the skin of his teeth. "Then what is your explanation, _Potter_, as to how you survived a curse that is said to be nigh Unblockable_,_ whilst I was thrust into purgatory!"

"I distinctly remember telling you to use my real name." Harry said, a cheeky gleam in his eye. "Perhaps you were just off your game that night. You are still human after all, To -"

"_Crucio!_"

Pain.

It was unbearable, excruciating, maddening. It felt like he was being roasted, like hot pokers were pressing into his eyes, his mouth, his ears, every inch of his skin, followed by knives being tapped into the very marrow of his bones then twisted, twisted, twisted until he was like Karkaroff's hand or Draco's green peas. He felt like foot-long splinters were being driven under his nails, and he couldn't move, couldn't breathe because he was screaming, screaming so loud, louder than anyone had done under Wednesday, under Grandmama, and there was just _pain_, _pain_, _pain_ everywhere…

Lord Voldemort laughed cruelly as he lifted the curse from Harry's panting, shaking body, and his Death Eaters laughed with him, too scared to do anything else.

"Oh…_oh…_"

"How does it feel, little boy?" Tom hissed threateningly. "How does your first taste of real pain feel?"

"_Oh._" Harry took a deep shuddering breath, then another one. That pain…had opened his eyes to what was really happening now. "Now I understand why Mother loves red-hot pokers so much."

"_What?_"

"My Mother – _oh _-" Harry shuddered as another spasming ripple danced along his nerves. "-I've never really understood until now – _ah_- it was glorious. Absolutely divine. Do it again."

Tom looked at the end of his wand, impressed at himself. He'd Crucio'ed the sanity out of his victims more times than he could count, but this was the first time it had happened so quickly. The boy had barely been under for two minutes, and he was already as mad as Bellatrix. Finally, he shook his head and unbound the Potter boy.

"Enough of this foolishness. I will give you your chance and you will fight me, Potter. We will see who is human and who is not."

Harry flopped bonelessly on the ground. Pride was nothing next to that delicious ache. His parents would understand, he was sure. "I don't think I can move." He sighed to the grass. "And it's Addams now, I _did_ say."

"Crabbe, Goyle, get him up. Rosier, give him his wand. Get up, _Potter_, or I shall Crucio you again."

Harry bit back the words he was dying to say. He couldn't tease in his condition. Grow a spine, he told himself. Mother would be more than willing to practice the Cruciatus on him afterwards once he told her about it, and that meant he had to get back to Hogwarts to tell her. So grow a spine and stop being so tingly like Hermione in front of a niffler.

He let his classmates' fathers stand him up on his feet, vaguely wondering how to break it to Crabbe Senior that his son had passed on to the Great Beyond. He knew that Vincent was known for staying over at the Goyle's, but surely his father couldn't be that stupid. Oh wait a second… perhaps he was. At least now he would have the excuse that Tom had killed Vincent for the good of the cause. He turned an interested eye when Rosier reached for his wand, which he had pushed out of his sleeve intentionally so he could have the pleasure of seeing whoever touch it writhe in agony. But Rosier seemed to have to sort of silver arm replacement for the one he had sacrificed for Tom, and he didn't so much as twitch when he picked it up and pushed it into Harry's hand.

So much for small pleasures.

"Now, we duel. You have been taught to duel, haven't you, Potter?"

"Addams," he corrected with a smile. He didn't actually mind the serpentine man using his birth name. It put them on even footing. "And yes I have, thank you for asking, Tom."

Red eyes narrowed at him again, and the yew wand twitched. "Then we will bow, as proper wizards…"

"Gladly. Tom."

He could sense Malfoy's eyes on him as he courteously inclined his head to what the wizarding world considered as his worst enemy. Harry smiled blatantly in his direction. Let Lucius see what his son had gotten him into.

"_Crucio!_"

Even though he really didn't want to, even though he really wanted to feel those exquisite lashings, he forced himself to move, rolling aside just in time for someone behind him to get hit. Whoever it was didn't seem to enjoy it the same way he had.

"_Crucio! Confringo! Defodio!_"

Harry dashed in and out of the gravestones, ducking down as a spell zoomed over his head, leaping over a blast of red light aimed at his feet. He skidded behind a tombstone just as the third spell blasted deep into the rock, showering him with gravel. His blood was beginning to pump anew from the excitement, and he could feel his teeth starting to ache. The moon was a mere sliver in the sky, sliding from waning to dark, which was fine because he had eaten well two days ago, dined on young centaur foal and with the pain still coursing through his veins, he felt…he _felt_…

He raised his voice to the sky, and an inhuman sound came screeching out of him, blasting through the air, high and victorious, like bats, like banshees, like the vampires of old, but he wasn't old, he was new and he was _hungry_ and he wanted his Power _now_.

It answered just in time. He turned and slashed his hand, nails outward, at the throat of a Death Eater who had been creeping up behind him. And now, _now_, there was blood for him. He sank his sharp, sharp teeth deep into the man's gaping wound, his eyes trained over the gravestone to watch for the others. They were getting close, but they couldn't see him yet. Let them see.

_To you, Loki._

He stood up, his green eyes embers barely hidden in the dark fringe of his hair, his pale face and his gruesome, macabre grin, all teeth and mad curves that weren't fashioned in a smile so much as a threat. When he ran, he started on two feet, but the call was too much and he ended up on all fours, pulling one hand closer to his chest as he tumbled out of the way of another Crucio, only to rear up, grab the nearest cloaked man, rip his mask off and bite into his screaming face.

_To you, Loki._

He braced his legs on the man's withering chest and kicked him away, using the momentum to spring onto another gravestone. He was like a fox among prickly black chickens, and they squawked and clucked as they tried to get away from him and cast at the same time, trying to disarm him, maim him, stop him. He let another howl rampage through his throat and the Power lashed out, knocking men off their feet and kicking up dust. He stepped on the leg of one, drew out the Acromantula fang and stabbed whoever it was in the eye.

_To you, Loki._

There would be no need for weapons tonight, no _senbon_, no fan. This time was intimate as any other, when the only thing standing between a human being and Death was you, and that was the time, the only time, you could dedicate yourself to the gods, when you could give a life in exchange for a life. It was not giving up Light for Dark or Dark for Light. This was deep, this was old, and he knew it, as surely as he knew he'd just torn a man's arm off and beaten him senseless with the soggy end.

_To you, Loki._

And every time he did, he grew stronger, and Tom knew it. There was no end to the Power, as long as you were ruthless enough, as long as you were willing to be cursed, and he was fine with that. He didn't need to scramble around Malfoy; the man had ducked as he had jumped, and now there was nothing and no one between him and dear Tom Riddle. His red eyes had narrowed into mere slits, spell after spell leaving his wand, colors bleeding into one another, red green red blue purpleredredgreen. And here was Rosier now, the patient pet, the steady pet, the faithful pet, now the armless pet, because Harry had grabbed his silver arm and yanked at it with all his Power and smacked him across the face with it.

"_This_ is Blood Magic, Tom." He hissed hungrily, ravenously into the stoic Dark Lord's scaly face. "And not that wriggling, half-baked ritual you performed. There is no substitute for a life, not blood nor flesh nor bone, and you are a little _human_ who doesn't know what they're doing."

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry still had hold of Evan Rosier though, and the man, the faithful man, slumped against him in the finality of death.

"Here's your toy back, _Tom._ You were right; I have fulfilled my purpose. You're alive now, aren't you, alive and kicking, or trying to anyway. Do try, Tom. Grow stronger, grow better, and then when you are, _come and play with me._"

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He had shoved the dead Death Eater into Tom's face, grabbed the Cup and Portkey'ed away. It had been as easy as pie, but now his Power was raging through him and he fought the pull, trying to fuzz it out at the edges so it wouldn't be so obvious. There was only one thing that could calm him down, or maybe two, or maybe three. He only had a second in which to mop his face free of blood when the first of those calming things came barreling at him.

"Harry!"

"Valkyrie." He said, struggling to get control over his shaking hands. This was one reason why they didn't go out the morning after the dark of the moon. The Power was rising high, singing to him, talking to him, telling him things about everybody and everything. It was deafening, and he buried his face in his sister's hair to drown it all out.

"My viper."

And here was the second, and he was enfolded in an arctic embrace like no other, He couldn't pick a fight, not here, not now, there were too many spectators, and there was always a possibility that the death toll would be so high they wouldn't be able to ride the Power out without dedicating one half of Great Britain to one Trickster or the other. There were six of them here now after all. Once you started sacrificing, the exchange had been made, an open link that they had to temper through the years. They could invoke every day if they wanted to, not just at the dark of the moon, but _that_ would be overkill, and where would you expend the Power in the end? It was all about control, maintaining the balance.

"How many?"

"Fi-Five, Mother."

"Well done, darling. Deep breaths, like I taught you."

He felt like a child again, after his first sacrifice, when the Power had taken him and showed him how the world could be.

"Harveste!" Two voices entwined.

"Harry!" One voice different, but the same.

And they all cannoned into him as one, even Blaise the Aloof, touching him, combing through his unbound hair, soothing and gentling him instinctively.

And here came the rest of the hounds. The scent of Light was so sharp that he hissed in the dark braid before looking upwards.

"My boy, what happened – Cedric told us -"

"Harveste, thank the gods you're safe -"

"I couldn't remember a thing after I had woken -"

"_Bzzz-bzbzbzbzbz-bzbz-bzzzzz -_"

"Let me through – Let me through - Potter -"

_There_.

He let himself go slack, falling into arms that he knew would be there.

"He needs to go to the infirmary -"

Wednesday was loathe to let him go. Her pupils were dilated until there was nothing but black looking back at him. His Mother had the same expression, and Father, and Pugsley. Even little Pubert was looking decidedly monstrous as he chewed on an arrowhead. That was the effect of the blood and Power on the Addams family, both a blessing and a curse. More on the curse part though, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

"Miss Addams, let go – he needs to lie down, get some medicine in him – he's in shock -"

He locked eyes on his sister and mouthed something before he was manhandled towards the castle.

"What did he say? What did he say?" Hermione said anxiously, her lips bloodless with fear.

Wednesday's voice was dark and low, so they had to strain to hear her, but when they did, all the Addams began to smile, and slowly, so did Harry's friends.

_Soon._

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

He was pulled into a room that reeked of Polyjuice Potion and arranged on a chair. 'Mad-Eye Moody' puttered around, his wooden leg clumping heavily on the stone floor. His room, if the smell of boiled slugs and lacewings were anything to go by, was littered with broken Light Objects. Some of the artifacts were finely tuned to root out Dark Magic, so it was no wonder that they had been smashed.

"Here you go, Mister Addams, this will make you feel better."

He accepted the goblet politely and watched the man who was surreptitiously watching him in turn. He could smell Veritaserum in the pumpkin juice, not a powerful amount, but enough to make him tell the truth against his will. He narrowed his green eyes then decided to toss the contents of the goblet into Moody's face. See how he liked _that_ trick.

His Power beat through him and he let out a long breath as he stretched out an arm and pushed the crippled man against one of his desks.

"No tricks now. I know what you are and who you are."

"What're you talking about, boy?" Moody growled, quite in character. "There aren't -"

"You are Barty Crouch Junior, and you are a Death Eater. You killed your father, and probably the real Moody as well… no, you'd need him alive for the Polyjuice. You have locked him up then. I have seen your Master, and he says hello."

"I don't know what you're talking about boy, let me down -"

"_Don't lie to me._"

He reached out. It was like it had been with Viktor, narrowing a tiny bit of Power into the bloodstream to get rid of the foreign bodies, but now he didn't bother being gentle. He _pulled_ and the man started to scream, first low then gradually getting higher as his vocal chords changed, essence of Moody ala Polyjuice oozing in greenish-yellow drops from every pore. He kept pulling until the drops started to form a stream, and then he wasn't looking at Professor Alastor Moody, Auror, anymore but Bartemius Crouch Junior, young, straw-haired and insane.

He dropped his hand and the man fell to the floor, tied up just as the door banged open and his Family walked in, Dumbledore and Snape at their heels.

"I've had enough of this," he snapped testily. "Professor Snape, I assume you know this man. There is Veritaserum in the third drawer of that desk over there. Have him drink it and he will tell you that Voldemort has risen once again. I will have a bath now, and when I am done, Professor Dumbledore, you and I will have a talk."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry stalked into the Slytherin fourth years' bathroom. His Power was there, but a little weaker now that there was no blood to feed it. It wasn't enough though. He felt like he could bounce off the walls and he gritted his teeth in annoyance as he turned the hot water all the way up until it was scalding. He stood in the stream, clothes and all, taking deep steam-filled breaths. In and out, in and out, that was all it was.

Someone knocked on the door at the far end. "Harveste?"

He let out a breath, and took another one, concentrating on the beating of his heart.

"Harveste."

"Yes, darling?" He said in a long sigh, eyes still closed, leaning his head back to feel the boiling spatter on his face.

"Your mother told me to keep you company, talk you down. Hermione and Draco are with her and the rest to make sure they don't tear Crouch a new hole or two."

"She will have her time with him."

"Good. As long as she leaves us a piece."

"Why, pray?"

Blaise squinted to see his friend's expression through the steam. "We're your friends, Harveste, and he tried to take you from us. Honor, Justice, Eye for an Eye, and all that pureblood crap. Mother would have my guts for garters if I didn't prove I was one of you."

"Mmm." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. The water swirling into the drain was pink with blood. He took another breath.

"Harveste?"

"Yes, Blaise?"

The mahogany-haired Slytherin hopped up on to the marble-topped sinks and stretched until his muscles popped. It was like being in a sauna. "Why don't you have a nickname for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have your guardian spirit-cum-omen of death and your world-ending serpent. Which one am I?"

Harry decided it was a good time to step out of the shower. He was soaking wet and, to Blaise, he looked like a very handsome drowned rat. His hands squeezed the excess water out of his hair as he walked up next to his friend and reached across to wipe the mist from the mirror. "My make-up is ruined."

"Harveste." Blaise said patiently.

Though the water had been hot enough to cook with, his fingers were still cold, nearly freezing when they brushed over his cheek and throat, and a pair of lips pressed against his forehead.

"You are my wolf, my _Vali _- a killer, a murderer and a conqueror all at the same time." Harry said with a smile. "Come now, we don't want to keep Professor Dumbledore waiting."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Harry and Blaise entered Moody's room in time to see a Dementor about to swoop in on Barty Crouch and Kiss him to death.

"_Capricia Gigelen._"

Harry had excellent aim. The spell hit the creature square in the chest and it stopped in its tracks, shivering.

"What have you done!" A small man in a bowler hat exclaimed. Harry recognized him as Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic and the man Hermione had asked him about when he had shown her the Twenty-Four Dead article.

"Duck, Hermione, Draco. You might want to get out of the way as well, Minister, before -"

_Bloop-Ba-Bam!_

"- that happens. Would you like a handkerchief?"

An exploding Dementor was slimy to the extreme, but the smell was like garden upon garden of violets and roses. Hermione caught the looks on the Addams' faces and obligingly waved her wand. A wind picked up, sweeping the odious smell out of the window.

"Was that the Cheering Charm, Mister Addams?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking impressed at him for the first time in four years. "Excellent usage, twenty points to Slytherin."

Blaise caught Harry's wink and decided not to enlighten the Professor about just what his friend's Cheering Charm entailed. He still remembered Vaisey.

"You've killed my Dementor!" Fudge spluttered.

"He was going to kill our witness." Harry said ineffably, taking a seat next to his Mother. Blaise moved to stand behind him. "And since when was he _your_ Dementor? He was a magical creature, and last I heard, you don't own them."

"Yes, well…they work for me, don't they? And this man is dangerous, Albus, you must acknowledge that, spouting lies about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"

"Like he's come back, risen from the dead? It's true. I was there."

"You can't… It's not… You-Know-Who is _gone_ -"

Harry looked at the man with renewed interest. Cornelius Fudge was an even bigger rat than Peter Pettigrew, and that was saying something. He was nervous and twitchy, as if the only thing that mattered, more than truth, more than the safety of his people and Britain at large, was his all-consuming desire to stay on top and in power. He felt Wednesday twitch, and he cupped her hand in his, hiding the blade from sight.

"Albus -"

"We all heard him, Minister." McGonagall said, and Snape's dark nodding head gave weight to her sentence. Severus Snape never nodded. "He testified under Veritaserum."

"He's mad – he'd say anything – it can't be true -"

"But it is." Harry said. "I was there and I saw him rise and I saw dead bodies." He left out the fact that _he_ had been the cause of those dead bodies. "At… Little Hangleton, where the Riddle House stands."

"_You lie!_" Fudge yelled madly, pointing a shaking finger in his direction.

Harry reached upwards quickly and grabbed his brother's wrist. Father chuckled and relieved Pugsley of the bomb. "Why would I have any reason to lie, Minister Fudge? There is no profit in me seeing the Dark Lord all well again."

"For the press – fifteen minutes of fame – I've heard about you! You killed Barty Crouch Senior with a pot of jam!"

"Did they say what flavor?"

"That will be enough." Dumbledore said, and his Light Magic throbbed through their temples like a bandsaw, and not in a nice way. "There is no way you can cover this up, Cornelius. Voldermort has risen again, and it is through Harry's -"

"Harveste."

"- efforts that we even know anything about it. We have been forewarned, and forewarned is forearmed." Dumbledore stood up, towering over the shorter man and his power flared again. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and Hermione rubbed his back comfortingly. "And now, I will thank you to not bring another Dementor into my school again. _Goodbye_, Cornelius."

The Minister blustered his way out, ushered by Professors McGonagall and Snape. The door closed behind them, and suddenly the Headmaster's twinklies were back and brighter than ever.

"So, Harry -"

"Harveste, if you please, Headmaster."

"My boy, I hardly think this is the time for formality."

"This is the exact time for formality." Harry said, his tone hard. Draco, Blaise and Hermione looked at each other. "And before you ask, my Family stays here in this room until we finish talking."

"Certainly, my boy, but I'm sure Misters Zabini and Malfoy and Miss Granger have some homewo -"

"As I said before, Headmaster, my Family stays here, with me, or we don't talk at all."

Hermione smiled with pride and sat a little taller. Draco and Blaise said nothing, but just for a moment, both their hands tangled in the still-wet hair at the back of Harry's neck.

"Very well. Why don't you start by telling me about everything that happened, starting from when you touched that Portkey…"

And Harry told him, omitting the fact that he had let his Power go, saying instead that Voldemort had killed those who had betrayed him. He described the Reviving Ritual in detail, and he had felt his Father perk up at the idea. He told Dumbledore that it wasn't safe for Professor Snape to go back into the Dark Fold, and if the Headmaster had been surprised at his knowledge, he said nothing. At every word he said, he could feel the anger radiating from his friends, and the darker tinged hunger of his Family

"Well!" The old man said, clapping his hands with finality when he had finished. "That settles everything then. I knew he would be returning. We must begin your training at once."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your training, my dear boy! Occulumency and Legilimency and Light spells. I know the lessons here in Hogwarts isn't particularly battle-oriented, but I have heard of the martial arts training that you four have been doing, and though I feel that it is neither safe or appropriate -"

"So you would rather see us get cut down on the battlefield, is that it?" Draco said hotly, his silver eyes as narrow and sharp as flints. "Harveste and his family have taught us survival skills that are i_nvaluable_, and if you knew the Dark Lord was coming back, why the hell didn't you do something about it earlier?"

"I do not appreciate your tone, Mister Malfoy." Dumbledore said, and Draco subsided at the chiding note, though his eyes still burned mutinously. Harry gently caressed the back of his hand, only to find that Hermione had beaten him to it. She blushed at him. "And to answer your question, parents are not very receptive of a curriculum that requires their children to wear protective padding."

Harry sighed and stood. "This will be enough for today."

"Mister Addams, I am not -"

"Professor Dumbledore, I have faced Voldemort tonight." Harry explained, trying not to growl. "I hope you appreciate that fact and respect my decision to retire. As for your proposal, I am afraid I will have to turn you down. My Family is responsible for my training, and they have done a splendid job. I survived tonight, didn't I?"

"Just because you did tonight does not mean that you will in the future, Harry -"

Suddenly, his Power slammed into him, fueled by his aggravation. Draco moved unconsciously closer and three sets of hands closed over his shoulders. This time, it was the Addams family that looked at each other.

"My _name_," he hissed, sounding eerily like Tom at that moment. "is _Harveste_ _Addams_. I am not Harry Potter, and I will _never _be Harry Potter, ever. James and Lilly Potter are _dead_, betrayed by Peter Pettigrew –_don't you say a damn word, I'm not finished yet_- you could have taken care of Sirius, my _godfather_, like you had Severus Snape, who actually bears the Dark Mark, and you _didn't_, so I don't owe you a single godsdamned thing, do you understand? I will not fight for the Light, and I am not fighting _for_ you, _under_ you, or anywhere _near_ you, so you can find some other malleable pansy to bend to your will. I hear Neville Longbottom's a good choice. So _goodnight_, Headmaster, we'll see ourselves out."

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

Hermione had finally gotten her wish. That first night, Daphne had somehow gotten up the gumption to threaten them again. She had been only two words in when Hermione had clocked her in a jaw with a mean right hook. Harry had been asleep, but he had Draco's word that it was _awesome_.

The Family had elected to stay in the seventh floor room, dubbed the Torture Room, for a week while they looked after their viper. It hadn't been there when they had climbed up, but after Wednesday had meaningfully drawn out her morningstar, a door had appeared very quickly.

They had Scryed for Professor Karkaroff, who had disappeared a few days before the Third Task. He had been Cousin What's engagement present.

Harry had heard about the twins' plans for a joke shop after they graduated, and had given them the thousand galleons that had been his prize money. In exchange, he had extracted the promise that they would continue to torture Cedric even when he was out of school.

Dumbledore, for all that he was a manipulative, sparkly-eyed bastard, was still wise enough not to entrust Barty Crouch Junior to the caring hands of Fudge and his Ministry. He had been under lock and key, doped up to the gills with Veritaserum. No one knew how he had escaped, and no one in the Family said a thing. It was all about keeping balance, after all.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

"Draco, you _bastard!_"

Harry placed a finger on his Muggle Studies essay and looked up curiously. In exchange for not having his exams, his teachers had given him homework instead, piles and piles of it, like they were trying to bury him in parchment. He had done a quarter already, and it wasn't even five o' clock in the afternoon. How droll everything seemed after a fight with dear Tom and his blowout with their holier-than-thou Light lord.

Wednesday had decided to stay in Hogwarts until the end of the school year and go home to America with him. No one had tried to tell her any different, and the Beauxbatons delegation had seemed quite glad to see her go. He would have to ask her just what she had done to them on the flight over. She sat next to him now, twisting the arm of the dragon figurine and figuring how far it could go before it would snap. Hermione looked up as well, her worrying teeth stopping mid-gnaw on the head of a quill.

Blaise burst into the room, dripping wet and almost naked. He was clutching his towel around his hips with one hand, preventing all the suddenly interested girls from seeing too much. In the other hand, he held a shampoo bottle like it was a bomb. It was one of those very expensive brands, reeking of French vanilla and passionfruit. Harry fought not to gag and grabbed his thermos, concentrating instead on the fact that his friend _had_ _been_ a brunette. He wasn't anymore.

He was bright pink, and pissed about it.

"How d'you like being on the receiving end for once, Mister Candyfloss?"

"_I'll_ _fucking_ _KILL_ _you_!" he roared, throwing the bottle at a snickering Draco, who was suddenly struck by a new wave of laughter as Blaise took a threatening step forward and promptly slipped on the slick stone floor.

Harry propped his chin up on his fist and watched the show, a fond smile flickering on his lips. Blaise was throwing everything he could lay his hands on, and globes, books, quills and cushions were flying through the air. Draco ducked and rolled, still laughing, every move bringing him closer and closer, and when he got in range, he grabbed Blaise's towel and _pulled_.

The high-pitched scream that raged through the air would have beaten any Merman, ripped its fins off and thrown it into a volcano.

"Honestly," Hermione sighed as Harry politely averted his eyes and retrieved a bit of his friend's decency with a quick pair of shorts. He wasn't above a few tricks of his own though. The boxers were a scarlet color that clashed horribly with the pink hairdo, with BITE ME cheekily written in big gold letters along the back.

Draco saw them and had to gasp for air.

"Alright, that's enough…"

The candlelight gleamed along the double edges of the staff.

Harry chuckled as chaos went down around him and went back to his Muggle Studies homework.

-.-.-.-…-.-.-.-

.

.

…

End of Part 5

Thirty-eight hours and still going!

You can blame the kisses on Hanson and their Mmm-bopping all over the place. And wizards are a one for bitch-slapping, aren't they? Don't send my muses after me please, I tried so hard to give them equally dark!love heartheart scenes with Harveste. I even threw Tom a bone!

Dear blue gods, if I don't get two hundred revs for this, I don't know what will!


End file.
